


Falling Together

by White_Rabbits_Clock



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, Lots of innapropriate talk, M/M, Multi, Not Steve Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rabbits_Clock/pseuds/White_Rabbits_Clock
Summary: There's a great story involving the Avengers that goes like this: the goodness of captain america pulled through to make a perfect team. When Thanos begins to draw closer to earth, it scares the UN into thinking that maybe they should try and recreate that lightning in a bottle feeling of the Avengers. Except that the story didn't really happen like that, everybody's got a lot to do, Loki is shamefully slutty (and that's a good thing), Thor doesn't mind it, and Tony is trying to get used to being touched, and Bruce honestly just wants to be friends, again. But hey, just another day, right?





	1. The Battle Of New York

There’s a few things Tony Stark has come to understand about the Avengers. No one thought they were going to work (except Fury), and everyone thought that Tony was going to be the one to tear them apart, since he’s the Merchant of Death and Unchecked Capitalism flows in his veins and shit. Given Stark’s bad reputation with those who like a good ol’ fashioned hero (a Paragon, if you’re a writer), the Battle of New York kind of got this Five Man Band sort of telling that cast Steven as the Leader, Tony as the Barely Good Wild Card, and everyone else on the spectrum between them. Since almost everyone seems to accept this rendition of what actually went down, the Avengers being a team in the first place kind of got regulated to a magic trick.

So that’s how The Battle of New York was essentially reduced to Cap made a magic hat and pulled a rabbit out of it. Whether anyone discussed it or not, that is the story that everybody knows. That, Tony supposes, is how he wound up here, sitting in a conference room with the original six Avengers, Phil Fucking Coulson of all people, plus all non-negotiable new members they’ve acquired since then. They have a problem, and they need a hat and someone to pull a rabbit out of it.

“Tony?”

“Stark,” Tony says, tone painfully, willfully flat. 

“Sorry?” Steven says, eyebrows pulling together.

“I would insist on Doctor Stark or Mr. Stark, but I realize there’s only so much that can be demanded, and honorifics get old anyways, so I’ll settle for just ‘Stark’.” Clint snorts, arms crossed over his chest. Tony looks at him and cocks and eyebrow.

“Issue, Barton?”

“Look, man, for better or for worse, we are in this together, so if you could maybe not be a child, we might be able to part ways sooner.” Steven is nodding in agreement, and Natasha looks to seconds away from another speech about Tony’s ego, and Bruce (lo and behold! He’s shown his face!) looks extremely uncomfortable.

“Yeah… no. See, say what you will, but we aren’t friends, and we aren’t on good ground with each other, so you don’t get to refer to me by anything other than Stark, Mr. Stark, or Doctor Stark. I don’t answer to Tony,” he says as he takes another sip of his coffee. 

“Tony-”

“Stark.” Steven looks frustrated.

“Stark… Thanos is coming. We need to get past all this.”

“Get past what, Rogers? Is there something you want me to forget about in the particulars?” Tony asks as he turns his head to pin Steven with a gaze so dead and solid that the air in the room freezes for a moment.

“The Civil War, Stark. Jesus, are you blind?” Clint says. Tony almost laughts. Shit, he’s stupid, sometimes.

“Hmm… would have been if it had been a few more hours.” If you’re cold enough for long enough, the blood vessels in your eye can constrict, your the corneas can freeze, causing double, blurry, or entirely absent vision. Steven looks guilty at that.

“Is this about the bunker?” Phil asks, and his voice is so mild and gentle that Tony snorts. Where the fuck has he been, exactly?

“No,” Tony says, “though I haven’t forgotten about that, either. No, what I’m mainly irritated about is that the government wanted a hairbrained, barely-working plan to come from a group of people with history and good reason not to like each other, and you, Rogers, want to use that as an excuse to invite yourself back into my good graces,” Tony finishes. Behind his red shades and three piece suits, Steven wonders if he eats enough.

“I’m not inviting myself back into your good graces.”

“Is anyone else in this room?”

“Of course not!” Clint sneers, and Wanda mirrors his expression. Tony heaves a big mock sigh of relief.

“Okay, good. Thanos. Plan. Come on, who's got it?” The avengers look at each other. Tony arches an eyebrow.

“Well?” Widow leans forward a bit, trying to implore Tony with her body like she’s been doing all these years. Too bad it’s taken until now to stop letting her get away with it.

“We don’t have one. The most critical parts of New York were done by you. We were hoping you would have a plan.” Tony smiles a thin little smile, razor sharp.

“Then why are you here?” The rogue Avengers look to each other, then back to Tony. They… hadn’t expected this.

“We’re here to come up with a plan.”

“Except that’s not really something you all do, is it? Not when it’s big and coming from outer space,” Tony sits back in his chair.

“Tony-”

“Stark,” Tony corrects. AGAIN

“That’s what we were brought here for.”

“Right. No. I need two things other than myself to come up with a plan: resources and knowledge. If you don’t have those things, you may go. I will have someone call you if I find you useful.”

“Tony…”

“It’s STARK.”

“Al-fucking-right already! Steven, call the man by his damn last name so we can move on!” Clint snaps. Tony’s smile get a little wider, but no less sharp.

“I am dead-ass serious. If you don’t have what I want, I don’t need you here.”

“Is this because we didn’t listen before?”

“You have literally never listened. Including now. So no, this isn’t about that. This is about the fact that actual aliens with actual information are here and have interesting news, but this conference room is filled up with you all. Not only that, but your Paragon over here is dead set on addressing things that clearly don’t matter.”

“They clearly do matter and we need to clear the air.”

“Rogers, I have reduced lung capacity. I promise you, the air is clear enough. Now go away.”

“You need us, Tony,” Steven says, leaning forward. He’s on one end of the conference table, and Tony’s on the other, with Bruce and Thor on Tony’s right, and Natasha, then Wanda, then Clint filling up the three other chairs. On the other side of the table, Sam sits on Steven’s right, then Scott, with Rhodey, then Vision, to Tony’s left. That middle chair is reserved for Phil Coulson, Not Dead extraordinaire.

God, it’s all such a power play.

“No I don’t. Bruce and Thor,” Tony says with a sharp jerk of his thumb, “have a shit ton of information. There’s a whole ship full of aliens that have interesting news, and I got a sorcerer whose knowledge I need to peruse. Everyone else: you’re just in the way.” Tony says it with a tone so flat and bored that it just drives. Steven. Nuts.

“We are not in the way.”

“Oh? Do you have a plan, then? You don’t have any information for me, and you certainly don’t have resources,” Tony says, deleting another email. There is silence around the table; those unfamiliar with the changes the team had gone through are waiting to see where the power falls, and those who underwent those changes are already set in their roles.

“We’re supposed to be working on that.”

“You can’t expect us to just let you come up with the plan,” Widow says, “last time you did that you destroyed a city.” Bruce flinches. Tony raises his eyes to look at her. The fluorescent lights are making his eyes hurt, even with the sun glasses.

“Ah, yes… Ultron… is that all, though? I mean, plan wise, that’s all you have?” Widow seems to realize that she’s made a terrible, terrible mistake, but now she’s caught in the trap of her own words. Tony lowers his shades just a hair, so his brown eyes can pin Widow to her seat. He never looks away from her.

“For those of you who don’t know or chose not to acknowledge what actually happened with Ultron and Sokovia and Johannesburg, since someone’s probably going to bring that up soon: Project: ULTRON was meant to be a larger version of JARVIS who would run the Iron Legion with little to no input from me. The project was stalled; I was having trouble getting the AI off the ground. 

“And then we went to this one base, I’m sure you all remember it, where the Scarlet Witch- Miss Maximoff, to the willfully ignorant- made every member of this team see their worst fears. Mine happen to be everyone I love or cared about or was responsible for in some capacity dead at my feet because I didn’t do enough. 

“I didn’t realize what I was seeing at the time, of course, was just the machinations of a spiteful twenty five year old. I did know that, given the massive army I had seen on the other side of the portal that no one else saw, I knew the possibility was too legitimate; the chances of that happening were just too big. So with the discovery of the AI in the mind stone, I thought… well what if all Project: ULTRON needs is a little kick? 

“The original attempt failed, Bruce and I left to go attend to other obligations… and he killed my best friend of many years, and the next week was spent running for our lives. The only plan in there that was successful, by the way, you all tried to stop. Including you, Thor! Isn’t that nice? In any case, the rest, of course, is history, but you’ll notice that no where in there, is a plan. 

“My plans, when there is one, usually work out just because of the sheer amount of details I can run through and set up in a short amount of time. All of your plans, however, seem to have something to do with punching shit in the face. Well, this isn’t really the time for punching, this is the time for planning, and I have a lot of it to do,” Tony finishes. Finally, he raises his glasses back over his eyes and stands up.

“Thor, Bruce, actual meeting to get to. You two, Vision, and Rhodey are the only ones I need there. Everyone else, go play with legos. Punch the shit out of a me-themed heavy bag.

“Why Vision and Rhodey?” Steven calls as Tony turns to leave.

“Because Rhodey is the leader of the Avengers, and Vision has a mind stone in his forehead.” Clint opens his mouth, and Steven shakes his head. Leader of the Avengers? When did that happen?

“We need to keep talking.”

“You all need to wait until the only people who have any fucking idea what’s going on comes up with a solution. Then you all need to mind your position and hope like hell you aren’t a casualty,” Tony says as he exits the conference room, four people on his heels.

Rhodey’s braces click as he follows close behind Tony.

“Friend Stark, I am not sure that is necessary. You do have a habit of reckless behavior…” Thor calls out as Tony leads them out of the Super Secret Shield Building and into a car. They settle in the back seat.

“Thor, I think I’m going to explain this shit one time: They have nothing to bring to the table.”

“They are our comrades.”

“Your comrades. They chose not to be mine, and I am not inclined to sit at the same table talking strategy with the very people who have been laughing at me and rolling their eyes over the possibility of an alien attack for years.” Thor’s face gets grave. The reproach in his tone falls away at this new news.

“I was not aware of that.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been here. You just sort of show up for a few days of fighting and trauma and then fuck off to wherever until the next time,” Tony notes. His face gets a bit softer at Thor’s confused look.

“Look, buddy, I don’t expect you to understand where I’m coming from, but please know that I need people who can really help us defend against Thanos. Not the former Avengers; not even most of the new Avengers, but the damn Guardians of the Galaxy, you, Bruce, the current leader of the Avengers, and Vision. Everyone else: just getting in the way.” Thor is pensive for most of the way to the Compound, face worried and drawn by this turn of events.


	2. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's found a new solution to his dreams.

The Compound is not the sweeping, yet quiet place it was in the time between the Avengers Civil War and the arrival of Thor and Bruce. It is not even the huge mansion-esque home it had originally been originally used, but not quite designed, as. In the eighteen weeks since the Civil War, Tony had scrambled to turn it into more. 

More than the mausoleum that Tony had come to see it as. Even before the Civil War, there had been tension. He had not wanted Wanda on the team, and Steven had, as he always did, overridden his decision. The captain threw his own past back into his face and asked him how he could be the king of second chances, yet deny one to Wanda? It had almost been enough, that guilt trip. But the accidental flare-ups of magic Tony had often suffered for told a different story. Wanda didn’t need a second chance. She needed training, and she needed therapy.

That wasn’t something that was well-received, though, so Tony had commissioned the building of the Compound. It, conveniently enough, required lots of oversight, and Tony liked to work with his hands; wanted to use the suit a bit. Between that and business, he was rarely at the tower when Wanda was awake enough to be an issue. The place had always- always- been a grave of sorts, where he buried the things he’d failed, the things he’d hurt. The things he wasn’t good enough for.

With Rhodey and Vision there, all on their own, though, Tony had seen it for what it is- the potential just waiting to be fulfilled, instead of those that had left it- and he had set out to bring it to full glory. With Rhodey as the leader of the Avengers, he actually handles most of the more finicky stuff, which is damned convenient.

The issue is, it’s a bit difficult to find Avengers. They have plenty of people who would be good for, like, extra help, or make great candidates in about a year or so, but no one wants to be under the Avengers umbrella outright, given the utter shit that is their reputation. All of the press work Tony’s done in the last few months has saved them from the waste land that is being written off only goes so far, and it’ll be awhile before new blood can wash away old stains.

With this new threat on the horizon, though, and an empty building that aliens could feasibly take refuge in, Tony had moved the guardians in a couple of weeks ago when they landed on earth, accompanied by Thor and Bruce and talking about Thanos.

Arriving now, through an underground entrance to avoid the protest at the gates, Tony braces himself a little further as he climbs out of the car and leads the way into his big empty house. 

“FRIDAY, you there?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Set… set a  meeting for two. Pick any conference room you like.”

“Done, Boss.”

“I’ll see you guys in a few.” Tony strides off, towards the back of the compound, where his own private quarters are. God, he needs to sleep. Besides… if he goes for a nap, he might see that hallucination he’d had in Siberia again.

 

…

 

He and Loki sit side by side. Tony’s knees are pulled up to his chest, chin pressed against his knees, looking at his frosting body.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Loki says as he brushes a curl of hair behind Tony’s ear. Loki’s skin is a midnight blue, right now, and Tony likes it. He leans into the hand.

“I don’t know.”

“Well you ought to figure it out. Recurring dreams can drive a man mad.”

“They’ve been saying I’m mad for years,” Tony ever so quietly admits to.

“Why?”

“Because I said the aliens were coming and we weren’t prepared.”

“They have proof that aliens exist, did they not?” Tony nods.

“Thor said that Earth had Asgard’s protection. How we have the full protection of a realm only reachable by interdimensional travel, I don’t know.” Loki gives him a little smile and tugs Tony closer.

“You’ve always been more clever than most would give you credit for.”

“I don’t feel clever.”

“Why? Did you not tell them years ahead of time?”

“If I were smart, I would have just done my own thing. I successfully converted a weapons-powered company into a medical/consumer tech powered company, though at the time our medical division was experimental and so small it was laughable. I… I know how to make huge, gigantic changes. I know how to do that shit on my own, with just those I pay for there to help. If I had been smart, I would have just done my shit and let them come running when I was proven right.”

“Why didn’t you?” Tony shrugs his shoulders, hunching a little further over. Loki stays relaxed, opting instead to run long fingertips up and down Tony’s back.

“Because for a while I believed in the story of the Battle of New York.”

“The story?”

“The tale people tell whenever they say what happened to New York all those years ago.”

“What’s the tale?”

“That a group of individuals, all of which were amazingly selfish, were drawn enough together by the needs of the people and, for those who are fans, the sheer belief of Captain America in our goodness, to band together against all odds and defeat the evil alien god.” Loki looks at Tony, at the desolated expression on his face.

“And what is the true story?”

“That it was a miserable, ill-planned matter of circumstance that should have been discontinued the moment it was no longer needed; that other teams should have been formed in its place with better attention to detail and structure.”

“Were you miserable? I know my staff had something to do with it. It made everyone miserable. Even me.” Loki looks up at the concrete ceiling that is still snowing on the still, dead body of Tony Stark. 

“I was. It… it was terrible. My dad… he spent a lot of time looking for Captain America. He believed the propaganda too, you know. So he’s out looking for this perfect, beautiful man and he couldn’t ever find him. So then he comes back home and there’s his fucking kid getting into the circuit boards again.”

“Your father did not care for you.”

“No shit.” 

“Anthony…”

“What?” Loki pulls him into a hug, and they sit there, staring at his dead body, watching his corneas freeze over. Tony’s hand clutches the dark green tunic. His head fits under a sometimes-pale jaw. Since when did his greatest comfort come from a villain? A villain who saw fit to throw him out of a window?

Since his friend saw fit to leave him for dead, probably.

When it’s just business, there is no betrayal, after all.

…

 

Tony’s alarm goes off, and he moves heaven and hell to open his eyes up again.

“Talk to me, Fri,” Tony mumbles as he goes to the bathroom and looks at himself. Good, he only needs to touch his makeup up a little bit. Tony sets to making a dark spot on his upper jaw disappear as FRIDAY talks him through his various strategies, all half forgotten from when he brainstormed them at 3 a.m.

With a quick swish of mouthwash and a few half hearted wipes at his already okay hair, Tony turns around on his heel, leaves his bedroom, and heads towards the conference room FRIDAY suggested.

When he gets there, the Guardians of the Galaxy are sitting at the table, along with Thor and Bruce, plus Rhodey and Vision.

“Okay,” Tony says after a moment. Rhodey slides him a cup of coffee. “Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I meant to post this hours ago and got distracted and now it's about half an hour before it's too late! either way, comments and concrit are welcome!


	3. Parallel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor does some introspection and tries to mend things in an entirely too wordy way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR PAST RAPE/NON-CON IN VAGUE DETAIL please skip to the part where Thor and Tony talk to avoid this; I don't have a better marker than that because the chapter is not broken up into sections/scenes like it normally is. For a summary on the introspective part of the chapter, please see the end notes. If you did not skip the first part of the chapter, read the second part of the end notes. the first part is the summary.

It is true that Thor does not pay much attention to detail… with the exception of a few people. When his brother was first fetched back to Asgard for imprisonment, it had bothered Thor how… grand Loki was, as though his brother had no idea how well he could use subtlety to his benefit. When Odin sentenced him to an eternity in prison, it had not sat right with Thor, but no amount of pleading had spared Loki his sentence. It had, however, bought Thor time to investigate.

To safeguard against trickery, Thor had not alerted anyone to his watchfulness; merely borrowed one of Loki’s old spell books from when they were children to learn how to scry through the clear wall of the cell. After three days of being left alone in his cell, it became clear that Loki was not in his right mind. He curled up in the furthest corner and refused to move for hours on end. He rocked back and forth, and he responded to neither food nor drink nor the ballsy insults of the guards. When it was time for them to walk Loki, as they walked the rest of the prisoners to guard against madness, Loki screamed and fought and cried until they let him be.

When it became imperative that their most high profile prisoner be bathed and given new clothes, Loki fought that too, his magic making strange and biting wreaths around him, though the runes in the cell kept him from any application. Thor supposed it must have to do with willpower, then. Loki did not intend to use his abilities- any mage in the dungeons clung fiercely to what magic they had at their disposal- therefore the runes in the cells did not activate. 

Thor, through his watching, learned many things. He will always blame himself for not going to Odin sooner. He was watching one day. By now, his technique had gotten good enough that he now could sense the difference between subtle and loud scrying, and continue to see into the bowl no matter where he was. It was because he was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible that he saw what he did.

The guards had unlocked the cell, the clear energy wall blinking out of existence, and stepped inside. There were five. Two of them bore a large tub, a third a small drawstring bag, and a fourth a collar. They had secured the collar around Loki’s neck and used the runes to fill up the tub with hot- scalding, by the looks of it- water.that is not good for a frost giant, and it is not what was prescribed for the prince. The two guards with the tub had taken a hold of Loki and held him down, so that the other three could bathe him. Ostensibly. Normally, Thor saw only the beginning part. This time, they had bathed his brother early. 

Early enough that Thor, even as he ran and ran, could clearly see that one of the guards had pulled down his trousers and fucked himself to completion in his brother’s bum, the powerless mage screaming the entire time. Then, they dunked him in the tub, that burning water torture on his sensitive backside. 

Thor had not hesitated, then, and had moved to pull his mother with him down to the cells. Those guards were either killed instantly or publically depending on the individual, but Thor could tell that he damage was already done. No amount of things to disrupt the smooth white of the room, no amount of rudimentary magics to protect himself, no amount of Thor sitting with him- holding him- would fix the ruin wrought on an already fragile mind. 

After that, there was no telling what was madness and what was trauma, and Odin had no choice but to allow the furniture and what not to continue.

So, yes, Thor pays attention. He notices how acerbic the jokes Anthony Stark makes have gotten, even though Thor himself does not understand. He notices that there is subtext Thor knows nothing about that plays a huge role in the things Anthony says. 

He notices how sleepless his comrade is. 

It pains him, now, to look at the things that have happened in his absence, just as it pains him to find his brother in arms had been mocked for his very appropriate fear of an impending invasion. It pains him almost as much as it did the day he realized how filthy Asgard’s prison guards are. He has hope, though, as he sits down across the table from Anthony and slides him a bowl of oatmeal, that Anthony will recover from his time alone.

It is a hard thing, though, this hope, because Anthony has no appetite, and he does not want to be around anyone. Instead, he slinks off into the quiet of the Compound. Thor wonders how he would take it if a certain Thunder god sought to Avenge him.

He tries to follow Tony around- to be there anytime he’s required to deal with the many and disastrous inclinations of the old Avengers, but Tony seems to be shaking him off as well as Loki ever did. Still, Thor has faith.

He doesn’t manage to get Tony alone, though, until late in the evening (one a.m., really). The engineer is sitting on a high bar stool, back to the only wall without a door or kitchenware, drinking from a cup of hot something.

“Friend Stark,”Thor greets. All these years, and he’s finally learned to keep his voice down. He takes a cup of coffee for himself (evidently, that’s what Anthony has) and half fills it with cream and sugar.  He settles across from Anthony, mindful of the man’s space. Tony doesn’t say hello. This late at night, when the gell has loosened his hair some, and a fan of short, brown strands fall across one eye, he looks tragically young as well as old as time.

“What?” Anthony says. Thor takes his time. He has learned much from his brother’s imprisonment. Perhaps the most pertinent now is that timing is everything.

“I abandoned you… at the time, the whole team, when you needed me.”

“Who says I needed you?” Thor takes another sip of his coffee before he speaks.

“Everywhere I go, I see strength. I see your armor. Captain America’s shield and his strange affinity for geometry that makes it return to him. The Lady Sif’s excellent fighting. Fandral’s swordsmanship… everywhere I go, there is strength. Sometimes, it is more or less than what is needed, but there is strength there still.”

“Get to the point,” Tony says. He’s too tired to be kind to a poetical sometimes-teammate. Thor holds up one broad hand.

“Patience. Everywhere I go, I see strength. Too often, both in my personal history and that of those around me, the price of strength has been forgotten. For me, I need not reach for it; Mjolnir was my pride and joy for many a year; now that I am king, my strength transcends that. I paid for it, though. I have lost the eye, and I am more like my father than ever… but maybe less so, as well.” Tony is looking up at him through the fan of his hair. 

His hunched over back has not straightened, but Thor can tell he is interested. There is a moment, right here, when the darkness is broken only by the stove light, and is a comfort, that Thor thinks of backing down; of leaving the conversation half had. But maybe… if someone had acknowledged and lived this out with his brother, Loki would never have felt the need to take things as far as he did.

“But for my brother, his strength was much harder won. In the beginning, he only wanted to be like me. Like a little kitten, he would follow me about and attempted from the sidelines what I did in the fields. Even when he was not expected to perform, he was still mocked for it. He was too little. Too dark. Too thin.” Like Tony.

“After a while, I believe he accepted that he would never be like me, and would have to make his own way. It is then that he first began honing the occasional burst of magic that would flair up green and pretty around him. In this way, Loki fought long and hard for every ounce of the strength he had. I believe he was as happy as he was going to be.” Thor looks so sad when he says this; the time when he began to truly train was joyous, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was, however, born of an injustice.

“But Loki has always looked too closely, and when one has eyes like that, they see what they would rather not; knowledge, then, becomes a knife to be skewered on, not a tool to cut away masks of uncertainty. My brother… his strength came, first and foremost, from his knowledge. When we were boys, just barely begun to grow into the men we would be a century or two down the road- when you met us- he realized that favoritism was a thing in the palace, and it was alive and well.” Tony wonders, briefly, if Thor embellished this part a bit; it is hard to believe he is so close in personality to a mad man that they would both know and see too much.

“At that point, hurt and confusion (he was more advanced in his studies and doing a fair job at mine, as well) over this pattern of behavior from our father and, by extension, our mother colored everything he looked at and every consequence. He was adrift, not that I knew it or paid attention enough to know it. He could not tell when he had done wrong, and when he had not done well enough to be as good as the me Odin pretended I was. 

“Our friendship died on that. It was so little, but so big at the same time. Eventually, my brother’s much more obvious anger at never being good enough clued me in, and after a fashion, I began to resent his anger, and believe Odin’s actions to be right. We, boys half grown, fought like we had never fought before, until the rage was gone and it was just us two, and a divide that someone else made.

“It took some years to be companions with my brother again, as he never sought me out, and it took me wishing for his presence and, though I didn’t know it, Odin’s insistence that led him to join myself, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. Even then, it was always with the knowledge that I was the important one. I was what mattered. When people looked to the Throne for stability- for assurance that their lives would proceed into the future on familiar grounds- they did not see my brother, they saw me. 

“And I believed that. I let it go to my head. I chose to forsake the knowledge that I was close enough to grasping, and it was not until my brother showed me what I was- and suffered the punishment my actions and his own begged and then some- that I realized how wrong I was.”

“The tale of the misspent youth isn’t an old one to me, Thor,” Tony says, and the bigger man is about to correct him, but pauses. Anthony is not dumb. He knows what Thor is getting at. Thor reaches to capture Anthony’s hands- to be the only one commanding his attention- but Anthony flinches back, his mug, already close to the edge of the counter, falling away. The sound of shattering ceramic loud in the early morning silence. 

There is a moment of silence, and then-

“Excuse me.”

-Anthony is fleeing the room. As Thor slides off his own stool to clean up the mess, he tries to think of where he messed up. He didn't even get to tell Anthony the part that he really wants the other man to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Thor was uncomfortable with Odin's punishment for Loki and begins to scry on his brother in his cell to see what he could find. He discovers that the guards are raping Loki and bathing him in water much hotter than he's supposed to have (as a frost giant, it's painful). It gives him the room he needs to secure furniture and rudimentary magic and visits from family for Loki. 
> 
> This scene takes place before the between the opening scene of Thor: the Dark World and the rest of the movie; my headcanon is that there are months between the two, and that Thor returns home at some point before leaving for earth again, which is when he does the scrying bit.


	4. Meeting Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor seeks council. Tony takes advice and wishes for what just isn't there.

Tony dives into his bed, the sound of the mug still echoing around his head. He pulls the comforter up high and burrows under it, shivering. God, he can’t take this. Every time he turns around, someone is there, taking up his time. Demanding his resources. Wanting VIP treatment. Wanting his attention. He just wanted some fucking coffee, and now Thor thinks that Tony is, like, totally his space terrorist brother because that totally make sense, right?

Tony tries to slow his shivering enough to fall asleep, but he knows it’s not going to work. He would give anything- anything- to go see the space terrorist/ apparition who's been sitting with him when he looks at his body, freezing to death in fucking Siberia. Who makes the scene of his nightmares bearable. It doesn’t work, though, and he gives up at around six thirty.

 

…

 

Thor shuts the door behind him and engages the lock before he collects a wooden bowl from the chest he brought. He fills it with water and sets it down carefully on the floor. He sets up a mirror that was large enough to encompass him to the top of his head when he’s sitting on his calves (the proper position for this) before he digs out a small box of ash. Normally, he would attempt it without the additive, but he’s too shaken to properly concentrate; besides, magic is still fairly new to him. 

Thor tilts his head back and closes his eyes, trying to breathe, and ignore the fall of phantom hair that isn’t there. When he’d first been informed of this, he’d been a bit apprehensive, as he’d been warned that the past can mix with the future with a scrying spell as complicated as this one. It is worth it, though.

He picks up a pinch of ash, collected from a fire tended by both himself and the recipient, and sprinkles it into the bowl. Then he thinks of the corresponding place he wished to see out of. While Thor’s scrying bowl is a flanging, carved from wood with runes to throw up wards against unsanctioned use, and small enough to carry, Loki’s is a full on mage’s basin, carved by hand when Loki first achieved the status of a master mage and used ever since.

The ash, of course, is not magical in and of itself, but the brothers’ history is odd enough that the creation of something between the two is sometimes necessary to find each other across time and space. 

Thor waits patiently, eyes on the water, not on the mirror. After five minutes, a ripple, seemingly from nowhere, causes waves from the top left area. Thor looks up.

“You have improved,” Loki notes. He kneels on a soft mat, hair grown down past his elbows; with the amount of magic Loki performs on a daily basis, he has ceased bothering to cut his hair, given how fast it grows.

“Thank you.” Loki nods, head tilting to the side a bit in acknowledgement.

“What did you wish to talk of?”

“Is it such an impossible thing for me to contact you to speak to you?” Loki’s mouth turns up on one side. Their banter has not come back easily, but it has come back.

“I rule in your stead and work to prepare the realm each day, and you are on Midgard, preparing for the Mad Titan. I will eat the mat I kneel on if you scry to inquire after my health.” Thor grins at him. It is good for his brother’s humor to be back. 

“Gone are the days I do not inquire after your health, my regent and heir, but to answer your question, I worry about my comrade.”

“Do you?”

“Since I have been gone, the team had a disagreement about the responsibility they should take, which was further complicated by the reappearance of the Captain’s old friend. More, I cannot say with with absolute certainty.”

“And this worries you how?”

“You recall the Man of Iron? Anthony Stark?” Loki cocks an eyebrow.

“I believe so. He owes me a drink.”

“He is so grave. His friends have abandoned him, and they demand things they did not earn, or threw away. Even I, with my presence, demand things of him as they do.”

“How do you mean?”

“I… when I thought he had doomed the planet, I did not think. I choked him- held him up by his neck. He is only mortal Loki, and now that I think of it, I was horrible to him. Then, when I felt the pull of my comrades, I ignored it until it was convenient. Now the Colonel Rhodes and the Vision are all that is left of the Avengers, and his former comrades wish to pretend nothing happened.” Loki cocks his head, eyebrows drawing in.

“What will you do?”

“I do not know. I have tried to speak to him. I told him about our childhood- my blindness. The little bits and pieces that led to the disaster at my would-be coronation. I wanted to tell him that I have learned that the power to get something done does not come without cost- that I could see it was him that was paying it, but I scared him. Reached for him. He flinched from me, Loki. Long have people done that, but never has it been my friend, and by my own fault, as well.” Thor stops, taking a moment to breathe. Loki cocks his head.

“Perhaps you should accept that touch will not be how you get through to him- not at first, at least- and attempt to shorten what you mean; as I remember it (and there is not much I remember correctly) he moves very fast. To get a point across, you may need to state it first, and your reasons second.” Thor is nodding, eyes falling away as he thinks.

“Why is so hard to talk to my own brother in arms? Was I that belligerent with him?”

“It appears many have been belligerent with him, and few with good reason. With men like him- people do not listen until the reasons they should are directly in front of their nose. I believe the best place to start is to take him at his word, unless you find it may cause him undo harm to do so. I must go now. It is early here, and Court starts in ten minutes.” Thor smiles at Loki through the mirror.

“I miss you, Loki,” Thor murmurs as he leans a bit closer.

“And I you.” Thor reaches out a hand to touch, but at the last moment remembers that he cannot.

“Until next time, my brother.”

“Aye.” the image dissolves. The ash is gone. Thor is left alone on the floor of his room, trying very hard not to go to Anthony right then.

 

…

 

It has gotten to the point where even hour power naps have the power to hurl him through a quick nightmare or two. Tony groans and rolls off the couch in his lab and onto his feet. He wonders if it’s a bad thing that Ultron and Siberia are combining themselves on the regular. This time, he dreamed that Wanda could make the vision a reality, so he had jumped straight through it all to the death of the Avengers, then into a weird dream-court date where they talked about him creating an AI he doesn’t remember having anything to do with.

Tony pulls off his ratty undershirt and drops his destroyed jeans and boxers as he steps into the little room off to the side of the workshop, where he showers and pulls on a pair of pre-sleep-deprivation-approved lab clothes, including socks and a pair of big, black, shitkickers. This time, he barely feels the water, and that can't be good.

He always feels the water. 

He wanders out.

“Okay, JARVIS. Talk schematics and logistics to me.” Tony says as he slides onto his favorite rolly chair and pushes himself across the floor to his main workspace.

“It’s FRIDAY, Boss. Sorry.” The AI says after a moment

“No worries, no worries, darlin’. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. What kind of guy builds a whole AI and doesn’t remember her name? That’s hella inconsiderate.”

“Boss…” That is so not a good tone, really.

“What is it, baby girl?” 

“Are you okay, Boss? You never call me JARVIS, and you woke up thirteen minutes ago from fifty three minutes of sleep, which is all you’ve gotten in the past two days, and you’re drinking coffee mixed with Monster and you forgot to wash when you showered. I realize I am not human, but I do worry.” Tony leans on the desk, suddenly remembering that his newest baby is too perceptive, and he doesn’t have to hide, anyways.

“I’m just tired, FRIDAY. Haven’t really been sleeping.”

“Boss, at this point, you’re a hazard to yourself. Please don’t try to solder something. I must insist you either sleep for longer or keep away from the lab until you do so.” His baby sounds so worried.

“It’s fine, Fri.”

“It isn’t, Boss. I noticed that you only ever try sleeping at night. Perhaps you should see if one of the lesser used living rooms might suit you better?” Tony blows out a sigh. He really is tired.

“Okay.” Friday shows him to the room least likely to be disturbed. It’s a living room on the sixth floor with windows, and the sun is streaming through them. Tony drags a couch directly into the sun and stretches out on it, reading through schematics on his phone until his eyes slide shut in the warm morning light.

“Friend Stark, how do you fare?” a voice asks.

“Whaa?” Tony lifts his head to find that the shadows have begun to creep over the back of the couch and would be upon him within the hour.

“We are tasked with meeting our former teammates in two hours, and I have been informed that you could not be woken.” Thor keeps his hands to himself this time, and Tony, in a bout of uncharacteristically laxness, does not want to get up.

“Cancel it.”

“I am afraid that cannot be done. Though I can give a good reason for your lack of attendance, it would appear that their eagerness to join a fight will not wait.” Tony cocks a brow. 

“When the hell did you choose my side?” Thor takes a seat against the window. This afternoon, he’s got a tunic over jeans, and isn’t that just a strange combination?

“I know, more than most, the political price made for the usage of power. I would have signed, and even if that were not true, I would not have done as they did.” Thor does not say more, and Tony is glad. If he had gone on another rant about how much he’s changed, Tony would have had to choke a bitch.

“When is the meeting and what time is it?”

“The meeting is at 4:30 p.m., Boss, and you have been asleep for five hours and six minutes.” Tony nods as he sits up and slings his legs down. He gets this thoughtful look in his eyes as he eyes Thor.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend. If you are pretending. You don't have to pretend to see things the way I do.” Thor gives him a sad smile.

“I know.”


	5. Lines in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony talks with the Accords counsel, then with his secret weapon.

As always, Tony is go big or go home. The first real sleep he’s had in days is followed by the most espresso’d cup of coffee ever and then a three piece suit and another coffee and then another coffee after that and now Tony is caffeinated, rested, dressed, and…

“I’m taking back the crooooooown! I’m all dressed up and NAKED!” Thor looks at Tony from where he’s singing along. His tone is too excited to be on key, but Thor thinks that he could be if he wanted to.

“This… is a strange song. Why is he all dressed up and naked?”

“It’s an analogy. It could mean when someone thinks they’re all that but they aren’t, or, in this case, it could mean when someone is acting like they have it all together but they don’t.” Thor looks at Tony and Tony looks at Thor. 

“This song has an uncomfortable resemblance to your life, yes?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m singing it, darlin’.” Thor’s never heard Tony use that before, so he grins and gets in on the second chorus about an octave lower than the singer.

“There it is!” Tony crows as he catches the half-mangled words. Thor is no singer- not by halves- but a thousand years of shouting bawdy ballads during long nights of drinking and feasting and women has granted him the vocal practice he needs to be not terrible. 

Tony gives him this grin, and it’s just one side of his mouth pulling up more than the other, but it gives Thor hope. With Rhodey and the Vision in a separate car, there’s no one for Thor to mask his fond smile from. 

 

…

 

The UN council appears to have even less patience for the bucking and fighting of the Exvengers than Tony does, which is how he winds up in a meeting with an eleven man/woman panel of people, all asking him the same thing.

“Dr. Stark…”

“Dr. Weber,” Tony says evenly. Mentally, he thinks back to what he knows about her. Astrid Weber is a retired neuroscientist, rumored to have kept in close confidence with Dr. Stephen Strange before he disappeared off the map five years ago and reappeared as part of the supernatural set. Tony is half inclined to like her already, since Strange signed the Accords and provided Tony with the perfect reason introduce and ratify parts of the Accords that would allow proxy signatures, which the Spiderkid used to sign. 

“I understand your reluctance to have anything to do with the Avengers.”

“Former.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Former Avengers. The current Avengers Roster includes those with me now.” Thor Odinson, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, and the Vision. Technically, Tony himself is not a current Avenger, since he’s on medical leave (no flying, goddammit) for the trauma to his chest. They’re just waiting on the go ahead from his doctor though.

“My apologies. We understand the reluctance to involve yourself with the former Avengers who went rogue, and under any other circumstance, neither myself nor any others in this room would request your continued involvement with them. It is becoming increasingly apparent, though, that without something to occupy them, they will pose a major obstacle.

“For who?” Tony says. He is, by now, used to the Counsel’s tactic of having him stand in the middle of a judge’s bench, while everyone else sits behind it. At his back, a table with water bottles has been set up for his comrades. Everything is designed to put the pressure on whoever stands in the spotlight. 

“For the Counsel, and for the incoming invasion.”

“I believe it’s more along the lines of just the Counsel. The Ex-Avengers aren’t involved in the planning for the invasion, and, given their skillsets, will likely be playing second fiddle during the actual fight, as well. In fact, the Avengers roster itself might be a down more than half its members, but we have plenty of people willing to work in tandem to cover that deficit for the duration of Thanos’ coming as well as handle any problems that we are not prepared to take care of,” Tony finishes. 

The smooth dismissal rankles most of the members of the counsel, and Tony braces himself. He knew, after all, what they would ask for before he came, and he’s prepared. More than prepared. After all, he had a bit of a talk with two longtime enemies to get prepared.

“Mr. Stark, a disruption to the counsel does affect you,” says another counselman. “We have much to do every day, and the longer the former Avengers interrupt that, the longer it will take to finish our duties.” Their duties, of course, being the Accords, and those “interruptions” that Tony doesn’t want to take care of, of course, being a threat to throw out his amendments. And make him start all over. Again. 

Tony gives a politician’s shiny white smile.

“As much as I would love to smooth the way to a conclusion of this whole mess, taking in any former Avengers makes them my responsibility. Without stable incomes, any damages would be on me to repair. Without proper paperwork, the blame for any actions they may or may not take falls solely on me, and that’s fairly bad business. 

“I cannot house or have anything to do with  the former Avengers because they have all proven to be cannons too loose for involvement.” Rhodey and Bruce hide smiles. It is so like Tony to make the Accords- his Accords that he put flesh and blood into- his stipulation, even though they just tried to threaten him with that very same thing.

“There is many a man and woman who would apply that to you.” Specifically those survivors of Sokovia, Tony knows, though they don’t say it. Most wouldn’t say it. Except this one mom whose son died in Sokovia.

“Yes, that’s true, and I won’t deny it- not now and not ever- but all the hoopla with words has lead me to the conclusion that actions are a better measure, and right now you are standing here having a conversation with me about dealing with your inconvenience. I should think that the fairness of the ‘loose cannon’ title has diminished, somewhat.” Gotti. The counsel members shift, trying to decide the best way forward. It’s clear they won’t back a man as slick as Stark into a corner. Not without some serious leverage. 

“Very well, Mr. Stark. Will you be here for the vote in three days?” Dr. Weber inquires as she writes something down on the paper in her hands.

“Barring any world threatening emergencies, yes.” Tony gives a short, almost playful bow, turns at a ninety degree angle, and begins to walk.

“Until next time,” he calls, voice floating back.

 

…

 

“Dr. Stark, your health appears to be declining,” Erik notes as he takes a sip of his tea. He’s an aging man, now, his marbled hair more white than brown, but his mind is as sharp as ever.

“Don’t worry about it, Fridge Magnet,” Tony says breezily, “I’m still holding up my end of the bargain.” That “Fridge Magnet” does not put a fork next to his throat for the nickname is a testament to how far Tony and the number one mutant supervillain have come.

“You are, aren’t you? I was under the impression that it would be difficult to get those amendments through.”

“We won’t know until Thursday, of course- that’s when the vote is. At present though, the UN Accords Counsel has found themselves strapped with a handful of nuisances that are angry at being benched, and they would like someone else to come and babysit.” Erik shares a glance with Charles, and for a moment, it’s like old times.

“Who exactly do they want you to take on?”

“The Rogue Avengers.” Magneto’s lips tighten at the name. He doesn’t give much thought to metahumans and their interpersonal relationships, but he dislikes the example set by them as of late. Given the average human’s inability to distinguish between a metahuman, an and a mutant, the actions of Captain Rogers and his merry band of irritants have shown badly on them all.

“As much as I understand why the Counsel would want them out of the way, that does not explain why you would not reclaim your former teammates, if only to keep them from doing more damage,” Erik says. He knows Charles probably wants him to not push, but he’s curious. What are they missing here?

“Because it’s not my job to look after people who just drain my resources, ruin my work, then tell me it’s my fault and act like my ego is to blame,” Tony says with a shrug. He takes a drink of his coffee again, and tries not to think about how bereft he’d felt when he’d gotten home for the first time after Sokovia and had to resign himself to not doing science with Bruce. 

He had, for a time, hated the other man for leaving him like  that. The more time he spent away from the other Avengers, though, the more he understood. Right up to the Civil War, the toxicity the team had towards Tony would probably have killed them both. With no one to turn to, though Tony had buckled down and pushed through.

Eventually, he’d had the epiphany that the team had always been toxic- there had always been a divide, it’s just that they had a reason to be out in rare form after he fucked up with Ultron. Bruce had been right to leave, and Tony’s hatred at the other man’s cowardice had faded. He’s almost ready to be friends again.

“Dr. Stark, are you there?” Charles asks. Tony blinks.

“Yep! Just tired.”

“Erik is right, though. Your health is declining. Are you going to retire soon?”

“Nah. Even if we don’t all die within the decade, there’s gonna be way too much to do in order to not, like, induce chaos.”

“I would suggest doing something about your heart, then.” Erik says. Everyone knew about Tony Stark’s heart, but the comment still makes the warm day cool.

“It’s fine, guys. Besides, we have better things to talk about. Can I or can I not count on your assistance?” Tony asks, aiming his inquiry at Erik. He already has Charles’ agreement. Erik shrugs a shoulder.

“It depends on how Thursday’s vote goes.” Tony nods.

“That’s fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is singing The Emperor's New Clothes, by Panic! at the Disco.


	6. Making Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony are trying. It's taking them too long, and it's harder than before, but they're trying. Tony's dreams are getting worse, but Loki's there for him still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TONY'S DREAM HAS SEMI-GRAPHIC RAPE IN IT DO NOT READ THE PART AFTER THE ELLIPSES IF YOU WILL GET TRIGGERED YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> As for the rest of you, enjoy:)

The only reason Tony and Bruce are in each other’s way at all is because some of the equipment in the lab portion of Tony’s workshop cannot be found anywhere else. Bruce is studying the genetic makeup of Rocket (the two worked out a deal and swapped blood) when he hears it.

“FRIDAY, begin.” 

“Recording in three, two, one…”

“Time is 1:15 p.m. Extremis 2.8, test thirty seven. Test subject: Anthony Stark blood sample no. 4,” Tony begins. Bruce quietly turns around to watch. Tony’s standing at a clear box, hands insulated by rubber gloves. Bruce draws up alongside him so he can see. Tony has taken small dropper and put a single drip of solution in a petri dish of blood. Tony sets down the dropper on an electronic plate, which lowers it out of the chamber.

“Raise room temperature: one degrees, fahrenheit.” Nothing. Tony repeats the command until the blood begins to boil, then, between one second and the next, explodes. There’s a small pause as Tony watches the red spattered everywhere in the box, obscuring his view.

“Test thirty seven failed at room temperature 101 degrees; time is 1:27 p.m. Result: boiling followed by explosion.” As Bruce watches, Tony closes his eyes against the fluorescents of the room.

“Why?” Bruce says. Maybe Tony knew he was there, or maybe he was just too tired to startle, but he doesn’t move when Bruce asks.

“My heart is weakening. My lungs are weakening. My chances of a heart attack are only increased with the stress that I cannot see an end to.” Tony explains. He doesn’t have any emotions on his face, and that’s how Bruce knows it’s very bad.

“I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault.” But Bruce knows that’s not quite true.

“I left.” Tony shrugs a shoulder.

“Everyone does.” The silence is thick and tense between them as Tony looks at the schematics and compares this latest version with every other one.

“That doesn’t make it okay, does it?” Bruce says after a while.

“No, it doesn’t.” Tony agrees. His eyes close in exhaustion. 

“I… I won’t leave again. I mean, I can’t promise forever, but I won’t leave until I know you will be okay.” It was bad that the next words out of Tony’s mouth are:

“You might be here a long time.” For Tony to admit he has a problem so readily, even in a roundabout way, is terrible.

“That’s okay. I trust you, like I should have the first time around.”

“Is the emotional part done yet?” Bruce turns to look at him and watches him watch the box for a moment.

“Yeah. Let me be your springboard.”

“I cured Pepper’s version of the Extremis virus by… reverse engineering, then reconfiguring a version that would effectively cancel out  the one she had in her already. But I don’t have anything in me, which means that I either need to take the original, then hope like hell I can find my own version in time, or I need to come up with one that does both.”

“What will it do?”

“Best case scenario: full body regeneration, focusing heavily on the thoracic cage and its innards and liver. Worst case scenario: stabilizing my internal organs; not fixing them, but keeping them from getting worse; time, essentially.”

“The temperature thing?”

“When the body is under too much duress, it raises the temperature until the virus can no longer function and self destructs; I was just mimicking that. The first time I went to a dessert, I’d be dead, here, but the first three or four I used couldn’t even be at regular body temperatures, so there’s that,” Tony says.

“Maybe we could seek a magical short term solution?”

“Who the hell is going to do magical full body surgery on Tony Stark?” Tony says with a scoff.

“I dunno. Thor seems as guilty for leaving as I am,” Bruce muses.

“I… I’m not going to make Thor get me magical asgardian healing just because he had actual prince shit to attend to.”

“I think he would want to.”

‘Well I don’t want to use him like that,” Tony says as he gestures towards the box. At the nonverbal cue, FRIDAY takes it away to be cleaned.

“There’s other reasons too. You’re meant to be the chief strategist for this whole Thanos thing; he has good reason for wanting you alive and healthy.” Tony shrugs one shoulder.

“I don’t like it.”

“Why? My god, Tony, please just be as selfish as the tabloids say you are. Please?” Tony’s eyebrows pull together, and Bruce knows he’s overstepped.

“Fuck off.” Tony turns on his heel and strides away, and Bruce is left alone in the lab.

 

…

 

Maggots are eating his frozen corneas, this time. He and Loki stand together, looking down at tropical larvae, somehow transported, alive and well and hungry, to the middle of Siberia.

“Why is it always here?” Loki asks as he takes Tony’s hand in his and tucks it into his elbow. They walk through all the base and into the control room Zemo had been in. The video of his parents death plays as it always does, but this time the screen is smaller.

“I dunno. It used to be an Afghanistan/Stane combo, most of the time.”

“What’s special about that one?” Tony shrugs.

“My godfather was using my company to make his own money by selling to terrorists and paid said terrorists to have me assassinated?”

“Betrayal. It does stick deeper than most wounds will.”

“I guess,” Tony mumbles. 

“I know. Sometimes I wonder if Thor has dreams like you do.”

“Because you betrayed him?” 

Loki nods.

“Perhaps he has found solace in the face that these later years have rarely found me in a proper state of mind to truly betray, but I worry, all the same,” Loki explains. Together, they watch Zemo move beyond them, out into the room where Dream Iron Man lies immobilized.

“So how many times, not counting your craziness, did you actually betray Thor?”

“Outside of pranks? Once.”

“Hmm.”

“Indeed,” Loki says, agreeing with the displeasure in the tone. Zemo leans down and kisses Dream Tony. When Loki is here, Real-Tony is rarely affected by the content of the dreams. It is as though he’s being reminded that this is all a movie with a bad plot but excellent acting. This however…

Zemo shoves his tongue deeper while Dream Tony begins to choke. Pale hands phase right through armor and pull it off effortlessly as Zemo reaches for Dream Tony’s crotch. It isn’t an unfamiliar situation.

“Make it stop.” Real Tony says. His grip on Loki’s arm tightens as he gets deathly still. In just a moment, Loki has swung around in front of Tony, forsaking his hand to grip each cheek, catching him up in a haze of green.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Make them go away!”

“I can’t. This is your dream- your mind. But I can stop you from seeing them.” A whine floats from behind Loki. It sounds like the utterance is made in pain. Loki’s long fingers cover Tony’s ears. “Hearing them.” Tony buries his face in Loki’s chest as the figures appear next to them. 

Dream Tony is full of cuts he didn’t receive in Sokovia. He’s crying, blood running down his thighs, Zemo positioned behind him. Loki- his enemy, his delusion- clutches the back of Tony’s head to his armored chest like it’s something precious. Like he would be so very grieved if Tony were to injure it. 

Loki walks his charge away from the thrusting figure of Zemo and the maggoty-eyed Tony, lips pressing soft kisses into his hair, the collar of Tony’s dress shirt flattening as he tries to squeeze in even closer. Dream Tony’s cries are getting too loud for the flesh over Tony’s ears to block out.

“Focus on me. Not the dream. Not the room. Me. You are mine. Do you understand?” it’s like he’s been captured by the enemy, and it helps him focus. The figure thrusting isn’t a pale Sokovian, but Captain America. Not Captain America, but Tiberius Stone. Not Stone, but anyone and everyone who ever fucked Tony over.

Tony focuses on surviving with Loki pressed against him. With Loki ready to do him in at any moment. With him in the arms of his enemy. When he looks up, there’s nothing there. He’s alone. There is not dream Tony. There is not dream anyone. It’s just them two: Tony and his delusion.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, tears wetting his eyes but not falling.

“Anytime, my dear.”


	7. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a fair employer, and hopes and prays he made a bit of a mistake.

“Would you kindly stop bouncing?” Erik snaps as Tony lead him along a broad, underground corridor. 

“No can do, Fridge Magnet. This is gonna be great.”

“Do not think I will not pull support over your infernal idiosyncrasies.”

“Do it if you want to, but then you’ll cast those brand new amendments into a bad light. What!? Tony Stark worked with a supervillain? That supervillain isn’t even gonna help save his planet? Fuck these goddamn Diversity Clauses!” Tony says, happily shutting down any more protests. 

At his side, Xavier tries not to smile too obviously. Tony’s kidding, of course, the man cares as much as Erik does, and Erik is no slouch. They both carry a lot of guilt for the state of the way the world views mutants, right now.

The last set of doors at the end of the corridor open to reveal a huge stack of neat metal cubes. 

“Vibranium,” Erik says as he walks forward and lays one gloved hand against the blocks. His eyes close.

“It has been a long time since I touched vibranium.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony says as he stares up at the mass.

“Yes.”

“Let’s get started then. Ah… one more thing.”

“Yes?” Erik turns back to them, a look of suspicion. Tony holds out a sheet of paper and hands another to Charles. After a few moments, Erik looks up, offended.

“You mean to tell me when and how long I can use my own abilities?”

“Actually… I mean to act within the bounds of the law. We will have to work down here for a while to get even one of these babies built and operational. That means that work has to be divided up into time blocks that promote longevity. I can’t stop you from using your abilities. I’m just trying to see to your health.”

“From the man with the dying heart,” Erik says, and he’s been a bit of an ass so long that Charles isn’t even surprised that came out of his mouth. One side of his nose pulls up slightly, matching his eyebrow in a look of sheer scorn.

“Every heart is dying, Fridge Magnet, mine’s just a fucking veteran at the activity. Besides, I’m working on that. Got simulations running in the lab back at home. With any luck, I’ll have a solution that won’t make me take more than a couple days to use on myself. But enough about me. I want to get started with this. Just be aware: don’t go past time, yeah?” Erik looks at Xavier, and their weird communication thing happens again, and then:

“Fine.”

“Great! I’ll leave you to it.”

“Where are you going?” Erik asks as he looks up from the blueprint coming from the projector Tony set on the ground. Tony turns around.

“I believe I made a mistake in my personal life.” The honesty- raw and open and without a single joke- almost hurts, though Erik and Tony are business partners in the most fragile sense of the word.

“Feel free to use the chair,” Tony says as he turns on one heel and continues walking, “I’ll be back to make sure you go home.” Erik arches an eyebrow but turns back to the blueprints.

“Which one do you want to start with first?” Xavier asks. Each of these projects of Tony’s are slightly different.

“We will start with the one for Beast, I suppose.” They sit in silence as Erik sinks onto the chair, clasps his hands in his lap, and begins to change and shape a single block of vibranium.

“Do you regret it? Signing the Accords?” Xavier asks after a while. As always, watching Erik work is a thing of beauty that often stays the words on his tongue.

“Not yet, I don’t. Besides: if even non-mutants are being subject to fair rules, then that is the boat we need to be on. Besides: I have been pardoned of some crimes and found not guilty of others.”

“You’ve never much cared for your reputation,” Xavier says as Erik works.

“No, I suppose not.” His old friend reaches out with one hand to set it over both of Erik’s. 

“It is good to have you back, my friend.”

 

…

 

Seven years ago, Tony stepped back into this house and immediately threw up in the entryway, the memories were so strong and he hated them so much. The same urge takes him now, but not quite strong enough to have him leaning over again. After a few calming breaths, Tony wanders through the first story to the back of the house.He hardly sees the modern version of his mother’s decorations.

A wall slides back, and Tony steps into an elevator. Down, down, down he goes. The doors slide open, and Tony relaxes as he ventures into the giant underground room. Banks upon banks upon banks of computers, cut off from the internet with the exception of when it is required for backing things up greet him. This is the true reason his parents house still stands.

He wanders the giant servers- decades ahead of any on the market- until he stumbles upon what he’s looking for. Maybe… maybe this was not reached. He plugs his phone into the USB port, allows the connection, and waits.

“Sir? Sir, are you there?” JARVIS’ voice comes from the speaker, and suddenly, Tony sinks to his knees, tears gathering and pouring unchecked down his face as he openly sobbed next to the computer bank that saved his baby.

“Sir, are you alright? This is not a panic attack, I believe… sir, how long has it been? Surely I would not have been gone for over a year?”

“You were, baby. You so were. I’m so sorry. I… I fucked up bad, JARVIS.”

“A moment, sir.” Tony waits anxiously, unsure of JARVIS’ motives.

“You did indeed make a mistake, sir. It would appear that you are not the only one.” Tony just cries harder as FRIDAY’s voice mixes with JARVIS’.

“Sir, you are nearing a panic attack. Please proceed with your breathing exercises.” And Tony does because it’s his baby and his baby is alive.

“Oh my god, JARVIS, I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I swear-”

“It is quite alright, sir.”

“No it’s not!” Tony sobs all the harder at the easy forgiveness. He doesn’t deserve it. The one person he really, truly, deeply hurt was forgiving him effortlessly.

“I am the one that gets to decide that.” Tony leans his head against the server bank and sits there in the cold sub basement, listening to the alternating voices of his two AIs. God, maybe they can do this, after all


	8. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers get to the Compound. Bruce and Tony are still working things out.

The Avengers move in on a rainy Sunday. Tony doesn’t want to, but he’s there in all his three piece, businessman glory. As the doors open, and his new, suspiciously SHIELD like personnel lead in a group of wary once-friends, Tony reminds himself that all he has to do is keep them distracted, sequestered, and out way until Thanos arrives and they either die together or go on to have the greatest victory party ever.

Red shades tint the room as as he’s joined by another man, also in a well cut suit, at the top of the steps.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony begins as the Compound’s employees halt the group and their suitcases two yards shy of the three steps leading up to the second level of the entryway. Or rather, Everett Ross pauses, and they follow his lead.

“Stark.” Sam says, and he’s the only one that says anything at all. Tony turns and gestures to the gentleman. He is tall and thin, with brown hair and blue eyes and skin tanned from many a day’s work in the sun.

“This is Mr. Maverick; he runs the bulk of the Compound. Any duties that are not strictly Mr. Ross’ job may be brought to Mr. Maverick in case of confusion. His word is as close to absolute as you all are going to get, so try to be nice to him. Now I leave you in his capable hands; things to do, after all,” Tony says with the fakest grin he can muster before he does and about face and walks off. 

Uncertainty twists in Steven’s stomach as Ross shakes hands with Maverick and the two lead the group into a conference room. Maverick takes the place at the head of table and immediately sets to work on a laptop. The quiet is so heavy it chokes the Rogue Avengers. Ross gives them all a glance that not even Widow can read.

“All of you ought to take a seat; we’ve things to run through,” he reminds them. Slowly, the group pulls out the chairs. The laptop is left alone as the projector behind Maverick’s head  boots up.

“Okay. As you all know, I am James Maverick, head of this facility. All the staff and the residents and the guests come to me with their problems, or rather, one of those directly under me,” Maverick says as he stands up and opens his briefcase. He walks around the table and hands out a series of badges.

“These are the keys to the cupboard, as it were; just swipe your badges, input any code you might need if it’s one of those doors, and if you’re permitted to enter, you will, and if you aren’t, you won’t.”

“What if we need to get in?”

“The Compound has emergency protocols in place in case of someone coming to harm, and if you would, say, like to use equipment you aren’t cleared for there is a procedure you can memorize and use at any time. For the first month you are here, you are all on suspension; your badges will access basic parts of the compound- your dorm, mess hall, gym, pool, etc. but other than that, you won’t be able to do much.

“Why are we on suspension?” Clint asks. He looks affronted to be holding a badge at all.

“Because it has come to my attention that none of you have a good track record of being good houseguests.”

“Was this Tony’s idea?” Wanda asks. Her fingers are just barely tinged red.

“No. It is mine. I was hired by Tony Stark to do the best I could by the Compound. Not by him, or by any individual here, but by the facility and the Avengers and everyone this place houses. I am not sure it should house you, and so for the first month, you will need to prove you are good houseguests.”

“This is our home,” Steven says, eyebrows pulling together.

“The building is owned, funded, staffed, and operated by Tony Stark. It isn’t even an SI property, it falls under his personal belongings. If it was your home before, it was because he invited you to make it so. It is not your home, now, though, because you left it, and his invitation, behind,” Maverick says as he leans back in his chair. Steven opens his mouth, but the Compound Director isn’t done yet.

“In fact, he overrode me to even get you here, so I would be less concerned about his meddling and more grateful about the opportunity to try again.” The reality of the situation seems to set in for the gathered Rogues.

“So what happens now?” Clint asks, his voice so soft that Maverick only just catches it.

“Now? We get you through the debrief, I show you to your housing, and you all do your very best to convince me that Mr. Stark did not just make a massive mistake in having you all in the same place that he lives.” Maverick presses a button on the laptop. Powerpoint pops up.

“I’ve already walked you through how the access badges work. You’ll need to have some way to generate your own funds, since no one will be providing you with phones or laptops or any personal equipment. The UN has been gracious enough to pay for your room and board and, strangely enough, an insurance package for all of you to cover medical costs and what not, but that isn’t really enough to live on. There are various positions you can take up around here, and I’ll walk you through them in a bit,” Maverick says.

“The other big things here are the other guests. This is Erik Lensherr, also pardoned under the Accords Initiative-”

“He’s an actual supervillain,” Steven says slowly as he looks at the face of a man very up there in years.

“Yes and no. Much of what I could tell you I will not due to privacy concerns. What I can say is that the same initiative that provided you all with pardons was also used in Mr. Lensherr’s case. Unless he does something to reclassify himself as a supervillain, the term does not apply to him.” Wanda tilts her head as she looks up at the screen.

“I thought Stark had a problem with people like him.” People like her.

“I would answer that but it is, again, a breach of privacy.”

“Right,” Wanda says, sitting back. She looks like she would like to pout.

“In any case, he is a resident here, so please do your best not to antagonize him. The man controls metal at will; it would not end well for any of you and it would also result in termination of your stay here.”

“Why?” Steven says. Since when has deciding what people would and would not say to others been a part of any sort of housing arrangement?

“Mr Lensherr is permitted to the same level of self defence that anyone else is, and given the man’s reclusive tendencies, it’s highly likely that a confrontation between you and him would by your fault. You have been warned.” Wanda is so tempted to reach into his head, but she’d bet her ass that Maverick is ready for it, so she doesn’t. She’ll have to find some way to get a hold of information, though.

“Moving on. Doctor Bruce Banner, Doctor Anthony Stark, Prince Thor Odinson, Colonel Rhodes, and the Vision are all in residence. They have each expressed a desire not to be disturbed by any of you.” The screen quickly flicks through pictures of each of them. Thor’s hair is short, and he has an eyepatch. That’s a story.

“Why not?” This one comes from Scott. He had fought them all, and they had been good. After everything had blown over, he’d been hoping to get to know them and get nerdy with the first two and Rhodes, too. The man also graduated from MIT, after all.

“They are all involved with the planning and preparation of Project: Thanos. They are all aware of your wish to be included, and have elected not to adhere to that wish and would like to not talk about it,” Maverick says. His voice comes out like he’s automated, and Steven hates it.

“In addition to them, the aliens Peter Quill, a.k.a. Star Lord, Gamora, Drax, Rocket, Nova, Mantis, and Groot are also here. They are all in residence and are considered highly dangerous; please avoid them if possible.”

“Does no one want to have anything to do with us?”

“You will have to ask them. As it stands, you are merely being warned of possible consequences for picking fights or forcing confrontation with any of those mentioned,” Maverick says. He changes the slide again.

“This is, as you know, Spiderman, as well as Captain Marvel, Miss Marvel, Beast, Dr. Pym, Dr. Hope van Dyne, Dr. Janet van Dyne, White Tiger, and Dr. Cho. They are all here to work on Project: Thanos, and are all from earth. With the exception of Hope and Spiderman, they are all considered less reactive. Still: leave them alone. Do your training, and your job, and lay low. None of these people wish to speak or be associated with any of you,” Maverick says as the screen switches off.

“Will we be able to help with Project: Thanos?” Steven asks. The UN had mentioned something like creating the original dynamic all over again, but that hadn’t really worked out. Maybe this was their chance.

“No. Unless Doctor Stark suddenly gets over his unwillingness to work with you, none of you will be of use until the actual invasion, if that. With that being said, keep in mind the facility is run by FRIDAY. Anytime someone is in their costume, they must be referred to by their alter ego, regardless of who it is or if everyone knows their real name.” Steven nods. Sounds reasonable. 

“These information packets are for you. It has various procedures that cover various things, such as how to figure out what jobs you might be able to do here, how to get in contact with someone, how to report a problem or request a meeting. When you have read the information packets, ask FRIDAY to show you to your rooms, and take care to follow the rules and always keep your access badges with you. Have a good day.” Maverick stands, shuts off the laptop, and exits the room, tugging his suit jacket closed as he goes.

 

…

 

Tony is curled up on the couch in the lab, looking at all the results. Bruce sit next to him, waiting for Tony to spill what’s on his mind. In all honesty, all Tony really wants right now is a hug, but even Bruce’s promise of staying until the things that cause him damage are gone is not enough to convince him that the closeness they shared before is a safe bet.

“They’re here, now,” Tony says. Another batch of tests: failed. Another little battle: lost.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says. And he is. Sorry he ever left. Sorry he ever let it get this far.

They sit on the couch, results in front of them, others running even as they study, separated by the unfathomable distance of three inches.


	9. Asgardians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Exvengers jump into action, the Asgardians land, and we learn what helps Loki think.

The day the Asgardians touched down went amazingly badly. Not at first, though. No, at first, it went formally. Tony’s hair fought to escape its product’s confines in the wind. He watches, quiet and anxious, as the giant colonial ship  _ Rannveig _ descends from the sky and touched down gently on the expansive back lawn of the Avengers Compound. The grey-black exterior moves as the main door opens, and a metal gangplank wide enough across to fit the largest of Asgardian cargo extends down to touch soundlessly against the flattened grass.

It begins like this: Tony Stark, Everett Ross, and Thor Odinson waiting patiently.

Tony’s gaze is drawn to the two people, backlit by the bright light of the metal interior. As they step out into the cloudy, overcast day, which produced winds of its own that have nothing to do with the ship displacing air, Tony’s breath catches in his chest. One of the figures is a beautiful black woman in silver armor, etched with runes that he knows are not Asgardian in nature. This would be the Valkyrie Thor mentioned to him.

The other figure though, is what gives him pause. The Loki in his dreams had looked much like he did when Tony had last seen him. This Loki, though, had hair down to his butt, small gold and black charms woven throughout it. Some of it trails down over his shoulders, obscuring his all blue armor and black cloak that just brushed his ankles. A pair of earrings caught the sallow light.

The two of them descend the plank, their steps soundless. Loki, Tony notes distantly, walks on his toes. The air seems to be absent, noise roaring in his ears, as Loki and the Valkyrie step off of the gangplank. They pause to bow to Thor when they are just barely on the grass. Tony’s eyes get caught on one of Loki’s bare hands, where a black band and a gold one gleam on his pinky and ring fingers, respectively.

After a moment, they straighten up. Thor greets them, as hearty and loud as he usually does, but Tony just keeps watching, gaze caught on his one-time enemy. Thor had said that Loki was doing better now, that whatever had made him mad was settled. He spoke as though madness is a screw, wriggling where it used to be tight. Loki’s murky green eyes (not blue- green) flick to and catch Tony’s brown ones. He tilts his head and smiles a bit. It’s just a smirk, really, but, this time (and maybe it’s just Thor’s words, given height and breadth and depth) it doesn’t seem maliciousness.

Then Loki’s eyes are flicking beyond Tony- behind him, to where the door to the Compound has slid open, admitting… Tony turns to look. Hell.

Captain America himself, aided by his stupid comb over and khakis and Wanda and Clint (he has no doubt that the rest are out of sight, watching. Waiting) strides across the lawn. Tony glances at Thor and then makes his mind up. No matter how much weight he (does not exactly) gives Thor’s words, he does not need the former Avengers fucking shit up. Tony turns his back to Loki and faces them.

“Ton- Mr. Stark,” Steven says, “what is Loki doing here.” At least he’s started saying Tony’s preferred name.

“Prince Loki, heir apparent… confirmed regent of Asgard pending King Thor’s absence,” Tony gets out, his voice deadly calm and emotionless as he announces Loki’s list of titles, “is here because he was asked here, as well as the entirety of Asgard’s population, to help with the threat of Thanos.”

“Why would you involve Loki, of all people, in project: Thanos-” Tony raises his hand, cutting off any sort of questioning. He needs to head this off before Thor and Steven get into it.

“That is classified. Even if it wasn’t, Loki is a guest of Earth, and under the Second Chance Initiative- the one that has brought you back to America, mind you- he is allowed to be here. Now please leave. We have business to conduct.” Tony resists the nervous gesture of smoothing his hand down over his jewel blue tie. It would not due to give himself away. Nor would it benefit him to flinch when Loki’s  voice suddenly comes from much nearer.

“You ought to listen, Mr. Rogers. You do not appear to have very solid footing out here,” Loki’s voice rolls out, all smooth baritone and god, does Tony want to move closer and further away. Ross speaks up for the first time.

“You are, in fact, persona non grata. I suggest you leave before Mr. Maverick finds you.” It seems like the blond should be smirking, but he doesn’t. He says it just as steadily and calmly as Tony did.

“We aren’t afraid of Mr. Maverick,” Steven says just as Wanda’s hand begins to glow red. Loki’s eyes flick  to her, and his smirk gets a little deeper. He steps past Tony, chest just inches from the inventor’s arm, cloak flowing behind him, as he walks right up to her.

“Little girl, you may think yourself powerful with those abilities of yours, but keep in mind that what you have was forced into you, and I can pull it out just as easily.”

“You’re threatening me.” the red gets a little stronger, and Tony is only just containing his reaction now. He hates it when her hands glow red.

“I am not. I see auras, little girl, and yours is in such pain. It wasn’t meant to be the way it is,” Loki says. He doesn’t seem to do much more than whisper, and yet, everyone hears him.

“Her name is the Scarlet Witch, or Wanda Maximoff, off the field.” Loki gives Steven the same soft smile he’d given Wanda.

“Why such an untrained, ill controlled woman would be allowed to grow into adulthood and go to battle without heavy tutelage, I do not know, but I will accept your… what do they call it? Civilian name? That one will do.” A tall, thin gentleman strides out of the compound next with long legs and an irritated expression on his face.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barton, Ms. Maximoff. You were told to stay away from the incoming Asgardians.”

“You never said Loki was coming.” Barton argues. He hasn’t quite turned away from the god. He’s remembering a blue staff all too clearly.

“That information was not for you to know- you weren’t cleared for it,” Maverick says with a raised eyebrow.

“You three have surpassed your limit for mistakes, and will have your actions reviewed by a disciplinary committee,” Maverick says. “Now please leave. Mr. Stark? I’m sorry about the interruption.”

The man slides by and offers his hand to Loki. 

“James Maverick, sir. Head of the Compound.” Loki takes his hand, that mischievous smile on his face again.

“Loki Laufeyson, at your, and the whole world’s, service.” the other woman steps forward with a hand extended, the other on one of her swords.

“Brunhilde.”

“Maverick.”

“Not likely,” she says. Tony quirks a brow. How does she know what a maverick is? 

“So that’s it? We’re just… dismissed?” Wanda interrupts. Maverick turns back as Tony and Ross draw in closer to Thor and the others.

“Yes.”

 

…

 

“He’s- ah!- quite skittish, isn’t he?” Loki asks. Thor glances up from his task.

“Yes.”

“Have you not tried with him?” Loki says as he closes his eyes.

“I have. He evades me because I held him up by his neck and then abandoned him. Must we speak of this now?” Thor does something nice with his hand, and Loki lets out another gasp.

“Of course. I always do my best thinking like this, you know. Hmm... do that again.”

“You are greedy,” Thor says.

“I have been doing your kingly duties, and my prince-  _ yes _ \- ly ones since before we even left Asgard. It is not easy when they hate me. So you owe me. I have a right to be greedy.” Thor smiles at Loki’s logic.

“They do not hate you,” Thor says as he adds another finger.

“Tell that to the- _ mmmm _ . But back to what’s important.” Thor quirks an eyebrow.

“It would appear you don’t know what importance is,” he notes with a push of his fingers.

“He is important. I want you, and I’m greedy, so I want him. You want him… and he’s a trifle scared to accept you, I think, and healthily scared of me. Gods, do you have to go so slow?”

“Do you want to talk or not?” Thor’s mouth quirks up.

“Of course I do, but I am a god, and I believe I can do this three or four times in a row even dead exhausted.” Thor rolls his eyes and kisses Loki’s knee.

“You are much less patient than they think you are.”

“I am in- damn- this aspect. But back to the problem at hand.”

“Which hand?” Thor says as he slides his out.

“Ooh- you know what I mean. But I think I should have a go. Haven’t you touched him?”

“I’ve been giving him his space.” Thor says as he shifts closer to Loki, takes his cock in one hand, and slides inside. 

“He doesn’t want it. He does but-  _ finally _ \- he doesn’t. Do you get it?” Thor looks at him blankly, just barely rocking. Loki sighs in exasperation, then satisfaction.

“Just do as I say, brother.”

“What do you wish to do, then?” Loki pushes himself up on one elbow and takes a kiss as Thor begins to move faster.

“Fucking  _ finish _ , for one.” Thor laughs and sets to his task. 

Later, when they’re done, Loki lays curled up against Thor’s broad chest. He can feel the magic of the Odinforce as Thor’s broad hands pet at him, fingers tracing over scars. Some centuries old, but most from his time in the Void. Loki closes his eyes.

“I’ve been with him.”

“With him how?”

“In his dreams. The poor dear has so many of them, it is a wonder he has not dropped from exhaustion. They always start out in that place his friends left him in. Sometimes I see what used to scare him the most in his life, but it generally happens in the bunker.”

“Hmm. So when you say been with him…”

“I have held him. He does not seem to notice, mostly, but he likes it all the same. I believe he needs a mind healer.”

“I thought you did not like them.”

“No one likes a mind healer when they are obliged to be at the mercies of one,” Loki sys as he turns his face into Thor’s a little more, his voice muffled by dense muscles.

“That rings too true, brother.” On Thor’s next pass down Loki’s back, he pushes his bum out a bit.

“I want to go again.”

“You are greedy.”

“And you are the god of fertility,” Loki says as he raises himself up on his knees and throws one leg around Thor’s waist. His hair hangs long and wild. Thor reaches out to claim a thick, curling strand as Loki drags his soft behind up and down Thor’s dick “So do not even pretend to complain.” Thor tugs him down and kisses him again, hardening.

“Oh, I am not complaining. One must take note of their fortunes every once in a while, is all.” Loki smiles against his mouth.

“Yes, I suppose so. With any luck, you will need to count again, as I will be adding another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're getting to the reason why I said Loki's shamefully slutty:). It's a little OOC, but I think that the whole mischief things hasn't left him in this fic, so maybe not? Either way, let me know what you think.


	10. Prowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project: Thanos is coming together, and Loki finally makes his move.

Tony leads Loki and Thor, along with Everett and Rhodey, down the broad hallway that that will soon spill forth project: Thanos. 

“Fridge Magnet! Egghead! How are you?” The man in question turns around in his chair, as does another, bald individual.

“Well enough, I suppose. I would be better if you stopped with the infernal nicknames.” Erik notes as he turns to see who comes with Stark. 

“Ditto,” Xavier

“I can’t! There is nothing about you that is as much of an understatement as calling you two ‘Fridge Magnet and ‘Egghead’’,” Tony says as he leads his group into wide chamber. They quietly observe while Erik sets down his half manipulated thruster. Erik looks to Charles.

_ He has a point. _

_ So? _

“Jarvis, baby, are you there?” 

“Yes sir. I must say, sir, Mr. Lensherr does excellent work.”

“Yeah, he does,” Tony says, eyes shining as the half finished ship sits in pieces before them.

“So this is your plan?”

“Yep. The ships are weapons, and Thanos is bound to bring an army. The issue is response time, mixed with leadership, mixed with the sheer volume of people we’re going to need to make sure no one gets overwhelmed.” Tony leads them further into the room.

“So we’ll have a living person function as an AI would- hence the need for Dr. McCoy and Dr. Pym and such- and divide those who will be fighting up amongst the ships. With he vibranium and the magic you guys are working on,” Tony says with a nod to Loki and Thor, “we’ll be able to continuously adapt the ships and those they transport as the going gets worse.”

“This is a fine plan, Mr. Stark. May I inquire after you, though?” Ross says. He isn’t on the committee for the actual plan for Thanos; he just deals with the superhero/villain recruitment thing. He would not know how Tony is doing.

“We’re still running simulations to see if there’s a viable version of Extremis I can use. If a solution can’t be found, it may be wise to have JARVIS take my place.” The extreme pulse of reluctance at the thought that Xavier gets from Tony makes him want to reach out to him. 

_ It may be time for us to intervene with Mr. Stark’s heart condition,  _ Xavier says to Erik.

_ Why? _

_ He would grieve so very much if he had to put his JARVIS in a ship. _

_ I thought you had your shields up? _

_ I do. _

“Okay, Mr. Stark. In all honesty, it may be time to consider stepping down as a superhero,” Tony shakes his head. 

“I tried that. It went tits up.” Loki steps a bit closer, and Tony freezes.

“Perhaps I should have a look at your heart. My mother was the master healer, but I am a master mage in my own right, and it would not be overly difficult to… perhaps affect a change or two.”

“Its… fine. I just need more time,” Tony says as he raises his hands in deflection, not surrender. Pity. Loki will have to try harder.

_ Do we trust the mage?  _ Erik asks. 

_ Yes. _

_ Very well. _

“Right, well, do make sure you give yourself enough time for a backup plan,” Ross says as he looks on at the ship pieces.

_ Besides, he wants to jump the bones of Dr. Stark, not break them. If nothing else, he ought to be motivated by self interest. _

_ Can I jump your bones? _

“Okie doke!” Tony says with a smile.

_ I thought you wanted to turn my bones into powder. _

_ Orgasmic powder. _ Xavier tries not to choke on that one. Erik just barely holds back a smile. 

_ Bad. _

_ Not bad enough, evidently. _

 

…

 

Hours later, Tony is despondent, eyes on another failed trial. He will need to give more blood soon, and its costing him. These days, he eats more than ever, just trying to keep up with the lack of sleep, and he hates that no matter what he does, he just can’t find a version of Extremis he can use.

“Sir,” JARVIS says, “Mr. Laufeyson is requesting entrance to the lab.”

“Tell him to go away.”

“He has refused.”

“Well tell him to go away some more.” Tony goes and washes his hands, prepared to draw more blood.

“Sir, that is ill-advised. By my count, you may lose consciousness.”

“JARVIS, I have to find an Extremis solution that works.”

“Not for at least six more hours, you don’t,” Jarvis retorts.

“Shut up.” 

“My apologies, sir.” That sentence worries Tony more than anything as he jerks his head up. JARVIS would not apologize for speaking, he would-

“Whatever are you doing?”

“Drawing blood.” Loki walks in, eyes wandering about the space as he tries to decipher the use of various machines. Suddenly, Tony has Loki’s full attention. The abandoned tie and suit jacket he’d been wearing earlier today are forgotten once more.

“I don’t like that,” Loki murmurs as he comes closer. Tony doesn't know why he doesn’t just kick him out. Maybe it’s the dreams. There not so scary when delusion-Loki is holding his hand in the crook of his elbow. All the same, when Loki gets closer, Tony moves back, the small of his back bumping up against a table, chest starting to move just that much faster. Loki’s gaze flicks to his heart and then back to his eyes.

“You’re afraid.”

“Unsure,” Tony says, and he doesn’t know why the truth is what comes out. He’s not afraid- not any more than one should be around a mischievous master mage- but he didn’t want to tell Loki that the god’s got him on unstable ground.

“Hmm. I suppose I ought to speak plainly, then.”

“Yes. You. You should speak. Speak plainly, I mean.” And Tony hates his brain for screeching to a halt. Loki’s voice is like balm on a burn, and he really wants to hear more of it and run away. Since when did he want to climb in bed with his enemy?

Since when did he want to climb in bed, period?

“My brother… my brother is an oaf.’

“Is he?”

“Yes. he spends months pining after a mortal, and does nothing.” Loki takes a step forward, and Tony reminds himself to stay calm. 

“Did he?”

“He still does. He is the god of fertility, yet he cannot smooth the way to the bedchamber of his affections.”

“He can’t?” and who the hell did Thor want to fuck so badly he got tongue-tied?

“He cannot. So then he wants to whine to me, as though I am his keeper.” Tony is too mesmerized by Loki’s murky eyes to notice that the Asgardian has drawn so close that he can smell the mint of Loki’s breath.

“Why are you so close?”

“Because I am not my brother, and I have never sought the sheets of any lover the way he has.”

“I don’t want you to touch me.” Loki takes a small shift back.

“Why? Is there another waiting for you?”

“No,” Tony breathes, and he remembers JARVIS (his baby. His precious, just barely survived baby) is watching. Doesn’t want him down here for six more hours.

“Do I frighten you after all?”

“It’s more respect than fear.”

“Is it?” Tony nods, taking the distraction for what it is.

“Everyone knows not to fuck with me in engineering; it’s the same with you, just your stuff is more widely applicable.”

“Can I apply it to you?”

“Is this about the heart thing? I’ve got it,” Tony says.

“Yes and no. It is about the heart thing, but not that heart thing. You see, months ago, my brother and I came to the conclusion that we would need to be on Earth to stop Thanos, and that every day earth as a whole was more and more weaponized. Of course, I only recalled a  handful of individuals strong enough to be considered worthy in that aspect,s o i took a little look to see where each of them was at, only to find that a single one remained.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed. I was, of course, intrigued. I watched you for a while, just checking in, really, only to find that you had a painfully high amount of dreams that kept you from sleeping. That wouldn’t do- the only one left of you, taken out by your own mind?- so I took the liberty of waylaying much of the dreams’ power, so that you might sleep after all.” Tony’s stomach clenches as he stares.

“You… You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“Oh, but I did. It was quite troubling, and I’m afraid I’ve grown a little attached to you.”

“Go away.” Loki lifts his chin, a little of that princely pride keeping him where he is.

“Hear me out.” There’s a moment of tense silence before Loki steps back, allowing Tony more space. If he chose to leave now, he could. But Loki… Loki had stopped the nightmares from being so nightmarish. Had told him the truth and extent of his knowledge of Tony Stark.

“What?”

‘Let me spend the night with you.”

“I’m not fucking the guy who threw me out of a window.” Loki gives a smile.

“I have. Twice.”

“You’ve been thrown out a window?”

“And fucked both the people that did it.” Those had been some of the most vigorous nights of his life, and he’s fucking a fertility god.

“Why?” Loki shrugs a shoulder.

“When one has nothing but enemies, it is sometimes beneficial enough for both parties to call the truce of a single night that no one winds up dead.” Anthony looks at him with some doubt, eyebrows drawing down over his eyes, mind frantically trying to work out the chances of him getting gutted right now.

“And this is… beneficial?” Loki smiles fully now, white teeth catching the light of the lab.

“Of course.”

“Just tonight.”

“Yes. No need to repeat if you don’t like it. But if you do, well, we are allies, and have plenty of time for a nightly truce.” Anthony looks like he wants to agree, but he’s shaking his head.

“Look, I’m sure this is a good idea from where you’re standing, but I’m not… I haven’t. It’s been while since,” Tony stutters, unable to finish that sentence. Loki smiles at him.

“Let me decide if it is a good or bad idea. Just say yes, Anthony, and we will see about the rest later.” Tony swallows, pupils little pinholes in his eyes as he tries to figure out if this is a trap. If he will finally throw Toy Stark to his death. But what will it matter if he does?

The moment Tony begins a small nod, Loki grips him by one forearm and they disappear, only to reappear moments later in Tony’s bedroom, and Tony jerks back because it’s been a long time since anyone touched with nonviolent intention. 


	11. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tony don't quite do the do, but they're getting there. Loki and Thor are already there. Bruce makes headway, and Tony tests out his invention.

Loki takes his long, sweet time observing Tony’s reaction, relishing in the unsure expression he’s so desperately trying to hide and noting the tense line of his body. His baby blue dress shirt keeps Loki from seeing the hollow of his throat, but he will in a moment. His mouth spreads out in a hungry grin for a moment before he schools his face. It wouldn’t do to spook the poor dear, after all. Loki takes a step closer to Tony.

A long, pale hand gently grips a square one. Loki raises them both until he could press a kiss against a scared knuckle. His mouth tightens at the reaction. Tony Stark is not ready for this. Damn Thor and his blasted hesitations.

Loki slides pale fingers up the sleeve of Anthony’s dress shirt, gently tracing the collar before moving in even closer to unclasp the top most button. He ignores the fine tremors- Anthony is not voiceless, merely too long on his own- as he slips the catch of a second button, then a third, going all the way down Anthony’s chest.

“There you are,” Loki breathes as he does the buttons on either wrist. Ever so carefully, he smooths his hands against Anthony’s chest as he pushes the dress shirt down and off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Why are you even doing this?”

“Don’t ask me that. You don’t need to think, this evening,” Loki murmurs as he pushes Anthony down on the bed. He slides wine red oxfords off of his feet. His skillful hands release the prong of Anthony’s belt, and then the man is lifting up so that Loki can ease his pants down and off his body. 

Anthony settles back onto the bed, waiting, asking himself what the hell he’s doing, if he’s ready for this, if maybe he’s moving way to fast.

“Stop thinking,” Loki orders as his own clothing folds away with magical green tendrils. He crawls up the bed, hands sliding up over abs hardened by years of engineering and mechanical work. He slides the covers, which had already been folded back, up the bed to cover both of them. 

Loki presses in close, drawing Tony so that they’re chest to chest, and the trembling Tony didn’t notice is just getting worse.

“Shh, I’ve got you. No need to worry about anything tonight,” Loki says as Tony catches a handful of his hair and keeps a hold on it. He’s too ashamed to show his face. Not when the shaking of his shoulders and belly is impossible to hide. Loki won’t let him go. Even when he pulls away. He shouldn’t be seen like this.

The god’s hand trails up and down Tony’s spine, the feeling sensual, but not sexual. Not yet. 

“I’m sorry,” he gets out as he keeps trying to lay still.

“Skinhunger is hardly something to be sorry about,” Loki dismisses as he rearranges himself so that he can tuck Anthony’s face into his throat.

“Hah,” Anthony puffs against the skin of his neck. When Loki wears his Asgardian skin, he is only just a touch cooler than Thor, which is still very warm to Tony- somewhere around 101 degrees- as a result, he has felt neither so warm nor so well in months. Even before the Avengers flew the coop, he was alone because he and Pepper had an on again, off again relationship that was mostly off, with moments of weakness in between.

“It is true. Would you deny me my own need to seek comfort after my time in the void?” Loki asks as his hands slide into hair too long removed from a wash. He doesn’t mind, though. Tonight, he will lay with Anthony. Tomorrow, the man will feel well enough to take care of himself as he should. Or something like that. Loki is not over stressed by the timeline. It’s only right now that is important.

“No.”

“Okay, then.” Tony’s shivering has subsided somewhat, his eyes have begun to close more frequently and stay shut for longer.

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you fuck your enemies?”

“When an enemy agrees to be in my bed for the night, it is with full knowledge that they will likely attempt a murder in three days hence. No such luxury exists with friends.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

 

…

 

Thor looks up with a raised eyebrow as his brother… struts into the room.

“What have you done?”

“Besides chase the object of your affections for you, you mean?” Loki says as he climbs on the bed and sits down directly on top of Thor. His king catches his breath and puts his book aside.

“I did wonder if it was he you’d finally convinced to give you attention.” He starts with his hands at the top of Loki’s back and runs them down his spine in a long, slow press.

“I did not need to convince him of anything. He was simply nervous. You know how it is. Bedding- ah,” Loki says as Thor grips his ass, “-enemy.”

“I was told that Anthony gave attention to many before his unfortunate run in with his godfather’s people.” Thor kneads the legging-covered bum in his hand as Loki runs his fingers through his king’s shorn hair. “And after that, his conquests were few and far between.”

“Well, my dear, they are currently nonexistent, but that will change soon enough.” Thor drags him closer for a kiss, his fingers moving just far enough inward to get a gasp out of Loki.

“I don’t doubt that. I do not see why I should be the one to be the fertility god. You appear to be the more voracious of the two of us.” He presses harder at the back of Loki’s balls.

“You know why- yes.” Thor’s hands slip higher, so that he can work his way under the leggings.

“Enlighten me,” Thor murmurs, voice deeper and huskier.

“Fertility brings babies, and babies need parents. Dammit, you take too long,” Loki curses as he pushes back into Thor’s entirely too leisurely hands. Thor chuckles. Loki drops his head to Thor’s shoulder.

“Are you not in bed with Banner? Do you not know how irritating the wait is?” Thor’s finger’s brush Loki’s hole.

“I know how rewarding it is.”

“Damn you. I should stab you now.”

“You’d finish yourself, then,” he says with a chuckle as he rolls them and pushes himself onto his knees to sate one of his lovers’ hunger.

 

…

 

Bruce finds Tony in his lab again, at another set of failed Extremis tests. 

“You look better.”

“I’ve had enough sleep, for once in my life,” Tony says quietly. Bruce gives him a thin smile and reaches down to take Tony’s hand. He goes slow, giving far too much time to pull away. Though Tony undoubtedly sees him coming, he just lets it happen. Bruce tries not to let the relief that someone is distracting Tony, even if it hasn’t been him for the longest. He’s even more glad that the distraction seems to have gotten Tony past the hurdle of Bruce being an absolute terrible friend before. At least, enough to let him try again.

“What are you thinking?”

“That maybe it is time to speak to Doctor Cho.” 

 

…

 

Erik, Tony, various Asgardians, and the Guardians stand out on the undeveloped plot of land Tony had bought and built the Garage (where Erik and Charles and, later, Thor, Loki, Loki’s on again, off again lover Angrboda, and Idunn, have been working). The gangplank of the ship lowers, and Erik leads them all inside. At the center of the ship is a pilot’s chair. 

“We ready?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” Loki says. He’s rubbing his thumb against his left palm. He and Anthony have mixed magic and programming to create a direct link to the ship. This is the test run for ship no.5. Tony sits down in the chair, rests his hands on the armrests and leans his head back as the ship comes alive underneath his hands. Beautiful lines of silver code, lit and swirling like eddies with magic, surround Tony, and he sighs as he links up with the ship. 

_ Hello _ , he says to it as his sight is overlaid with numbers, both Asgardian and Midgardian in origin.

_ Hello, pilot. Identify yourself.  _

_ Anthony Edward Stark. Test Pilot. It is a pleasure to meet you. _

_ Who is my pilot?  _ This ship is not interested in niceties and details, like the last one was.

_ I do not know. We have not assigned a pilot to you yet. You are beautiful. _

_ I dislike this answer. _

_ It will not remain so for long. Raise up for me? _

_ Very well.  _ The ship begins to vibrate as it rises, thrusters dropping out from the bottom. 

_ Thank you. Lower please. I must go now, and find a pilot. _

Tony opens his eyes and stands up, only to stumble. HIs legs feel weak and transient after his connection. Thor catches him, and smiles down both in mirth and admiration.

“You and my brother do good work.” Tony smiles a little as he gets his feet beneath him.

They just have a couple more to test, and then they’ll be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the update is late guys. School and work has been kicking my ass. For those of you reading the Come On and Make Me series, the next part is Regression, but it's not ready yet. It needs some major editing, but it is on it's way.


	12. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finally takes that leap, Tony makes that connection, the silver ship gets her pilot, and the problem of a certain heart is finally laid to rest.

The night Tony ends up with Thor, he wakes up from a nightmare, screaming so loud he scares himself. Well, scares himself more. Loki must be busy, because he hadn’t offered his nightly truce (occasionally pg, occasionally x rated) like he normally does. Instead, he had been absent. It doesn’t bother Tony (much), aside from the logistics associated with being alone. Besides, everyone and their damn moms knew that Loki Laufeyson gets around. He really shoudn’t be feeling this put out. 

After months of living in the compound, he has slept at least once with everyone and anyone that took his fancy for more than a moment or two, with the exception of the former Avengers. Those, he avoids, and Tony wonders if it isn’t a favor to him. Tony always thought that he wouldn’t be chill with having a relationship with someone like Loki, but it doesn’t seem to matter as much as he thought. Yes, Loki has a thing for sex with a bunch of people and he doesn’t care about their parts, but he was also up front about that. That honesty, Tony thinks, is what makes it okay.

In any case, it is three in the morning, and Tony has a meeting that is bound to be difficult, if not outright go to shit, and he’s awake, sweating out his fears. Tony rolls out of bed, toes flexing in the cool air, and starts to walk. Sometimes the quickest way to go back to sleep is to convince himself that this is the first time he’s trying.

He shivers as he walks, and on that note decides to head to the kitchen. The kettle Bruce used this afternoon is still on the back burner, and he swirls it around to check the water before flicking open the cap and turning the stove knob on high.

Ten minutes later, he is sitting on a stool, breathing in the steam of apple cider, eyes closed. 

“As ever, Anthony, you fail to sleep.” Tony jumps, but Thor just gives him a soft smile.

“Relax, Anthony. I only mean to join you,” Thor murmurs as he brushes past Tony (he didn’t give him the time to move on purpose, the bastard) to get his own mug. The vibrations of Thor’s words are close enough to feel, and Tony’s reminded of Loki’s almost… lazy way of spilling information. My oaf of a brother wants this. My oaf of a brother wants that. Tony’s head jerks up sharply.

“You’ve been flirting with me.”

“Yes,” Thor says, eyes pinning Tony to his seat.

“What the hell. You know your brother got here first?”

“I should say he got to myself first, as well.” They sit there for a moment while Tony tries to decide what he’s going to say to that.

“So are all Asgardians just casually polyamorous? Or is that something you and Loki just do?” Thor smiles.

“You recall my stories of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three?” Tony nods. Then his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“All of them?”

“All of them,” Thor murmurs. He takes Anthony’s hand ever so slowly. One thick thumb plays over the backs of Tony’s knuckles.

“Who else would be in on this?”

“Bruce, and, by extension, the Hulk.” And, wow, it’s not like Bruce isn’t hot, but the idea of casually being in a relationship with an ex villain, an ex fugitive, and a current king who was once an exile is… strange, to say the least.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that.” Thor gives him a small smile, soft as down on his handsome, one-eyed face.

“It would be just Loki and you, or you and I, or the three of us, to begin with. I suspect the dreams you both have would be easier to manage.” Tony takes another sip of his cider, eyes slipping closed as he savors the slip of just-hot-enough sweetness down his throat. When he’s done with the mug, he gets up and rinses it out. This is all done with silence as Thor watches him in all his shirtless, sleepy glory. 

Tony takes a moment to think about his life. 

A actual immortal mage who completely lost his shit (twice!) and took it out on the earth runs around having casual sex with whoever he pleases, and those people also happen to be fucking each other. Evidently, one of the reasons why that mage is interested in Tony is because Thor was first, and now he’s being propositioned by the God of Thunder. There is an actual relationship with his favorite science bro in the future, which is something Tony briefly entertained before that possibility was painfully smashed to bits with Bruce and Widow’s new intimacy and Bruce’s fleeing the nest. 

Literally.

“This is some crazy ass shit.”

“Perhaps, but I believe we are all about to die.” Tony nods at this.

They are about to die. In three days time, the second phase of project Thanos will go into effect. It is crazy, but hell if he’s going to let that stop him. Tony walks around the bar and leans against Thor. It’s very slight, and very cautious, but Thor just lets him take it at his own pace.

“We are definitely all about to die.” Tony slowly stretches up just enough to get a kiss. 

Later, Tony wakes up to Loki moving around Thor’s rooms, tossing his cape- this one a black number with green edging- over the back of a chair, and stretching. 

Tony ignores him, electing instead to bury down further into the warm, naked glory that is his brand new lover. When Loki is ready, he lays out along Tony’s back.

“I told you my brother takes forever,” he murmurs before he, too, drops off.

 

…

 

Tony really likes meeting people at the entryway to the Compound. Halfway through, the floor raises by three steps. With the light streaming in from both the east and west windows, and the skylight and also behind them, from the north, the impression is always a bright, fresh one. 

The broad, pneumatic doors draw back to admit an aging gentleman with white hair. Tony begins walking directly towards him. His button down- a pale green one- is rolled up to the sleeves, and a small, shiny chain just barely peaks through at his throat.

“Dr. Pym!” he says with a grin as broad and bright as the 9 o’clock sun. 

“Dr. Stark,” Pym says, a trifle less enthused and a hell of a lot more wary. Their hands meet, and when they shake, Tony can feel every year of bitterness harbored between his father and the Doctor.

“I am well aware that this is not a pleasure, but I’m hoping to make it so!” Tony says with a flippancy he doesn’t feel. Pym nods in acknowledgement. That’s fair. Tony turns on his heel and leads Dr. Pym through one of the doors with a swipe of his access badge. He quickly weaves his way through the hallways. Not once do they pass even a single window. Pym’s mouth tightens.

“I was not aware your feel for architecture only included the entrance.”

“It doesn’t, there just happens to be some drama I would like to avoid. Here we are!” Tony says as they step out into what must be the main hallway and out into a smaller back entryway. 

On the far side of the back lawn is what looks like a spaceship. 

“This is it?” Pym asks, the fingers of one hand rubbing at his navy braces.

“Yep! I think you’ll like the interface. It’s silver.”

“Silver?” Pym asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Silver. Of course, we don’t actually know how compatible you’ll be until we see you fly it, but if it works (and it should), then we can start working on your crew,” Tony explains as they reach a young man in his mid-thirties with entirely too much hair and two elderly gentlemen, one of which is in a wheelchair.

“This might be redundant, but Dr. Pym, this is professor Xavier, Crown Prince Loki Laufeyson, and Mr. Erik Lehnsherr, the wonderful forces behind the ships and their interfaces. Shall we?” the three nod, and follow Tony and Pym up the gangplank and to the pilot’s bubble. 

“You know, we might not die after all,” Tony says, a smile of unholy glee on his face when Pym takes to the interface like a duck to water.

 

…

 

In the end, they go to see an Asgardian by the name of Idunn. Bruce is at Tony’s shoulder, silently offering support as the master healer, along with Loki, phases her hands through his chest to grip the fragile, failing organ that is his heart. His hand, in turn, squeezes whatever he’s holding in a death grip.

A swarm of green magic clouds his mind and makes him calm. While Tony Stark absolutely fucking refused to be unconscious during the magical fuckery Idunn is doing with his heart, he had consented to Loki easing the way, just a little bit. The actual healing hurts like hell, and Tony doesn't remember much besides his screaming.

When he wakes up, he’s in Thor’s bed again, surrounded by people he knows will have his back. Loki is sitting in a chair, reading like he is not, in fact, a gigantic mother hen. Thor’s warmth is pressed up against one side, and Bruce is on the other. His heart, for the first time in a decade, beats strong and sure in his chest again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot going on in this chapter:) please let me know what you think.
> 
> In other, mildly related news: It looks like I'm slowing down as far as individual stories go, but I am definitely not. Just been having an issue writing something that I haven't already done before :(. But the good news is that I have, in fact, come up with something interesting, and it's on it's way:)


	13. Standoffish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Hank Pym is getting tired of Steve Rogers' shit.

With the world about to end, Tony has never felt more in control. With everyone they can find already assigned teams and cycling through for training.and resources, Maverick is a frequent, if not constant, presence in his life. With the man keeping him up to date on everything, Tony plans to upgrade his pay to what Pepper made right before he made her CEO, if he can. If he lives long enough. If he doesn’t, well, his last will and testament are already written and ready to go. Since Afghanistan, he’s kept up on it. 

He nods hello to Daredevil, but doesn’t stop; with Hank Pym here today, ready to lift off, and Beast (god, is he jealous) doing a last test run with his team, he’s a man on a mission. The halls are occupied enough that he doesn’t bother with the quieter staff-only places. That right there is his mistake. 

At first, he doesn’t even realize it’s a mistake. Loki peels out of one of the side rooms (likely the one that had the Asgardian personnel who are supposed to be lifting off in Bruce’s ship) to join him.

“You look utterly alive, Doctor Stark,” he says, low and too sultry to be incidental.

“Honey, in a few days, we might just die! What other time is there to be alive?” Loki laughs.

“Stark!” Someone yells out. Tony keeps going, hoping that someone will run interference again. But then he has this thought. Why is he running, exactly? He’s going into space to be the mind of a living ship. He’s going to hold the lives of a lot of people in his hands, and he’s running from a bunch of hero rejects (and they did the rejecting themselves). As his name rings out a second time, and more people in the hallway notice it (including, nicely enough, James Maverick), Tony stops and does an about face.

Steve and his people were apparently waiting for him to go by, because they all step out of this one room and face up to him in the hallway. Various personnel, much of which are former SHIELD agents, stop in their tracks. 

With Steve on one end of the hall and Tony on the other, they can tell how this is going to go. Steve strides across the floor, eating up the distance with his long legs.

“We’ve been assigned to various ground teams, earth side,” Steve says with a gesture. To his group. With Nat and Winda to his left, and Clint, Scott, and Sam to his right, they look like a unified team, standing together to face off against the odds and come out on top.

But this ain’t the comics, and you don’t just luck into being the most important position. Not when you do shit like face offs in the hallways of Tony Fucking Stark’s building.

“Yes,” Tony says as he lifts his chin and tilts his head to the side, “you have.”

“We should be in space. We have a lot of experience with alien threats.” Tony lifts an eyebrow at them the way Pym did at him. It’s the ‘Is that so?’ brow, and unlike himself, they don’t have anything to back that up.

“The rosters for the ships were not generated based on experience, though that did play a part. It was an admittedly small part, but it did play a part.” Tony says. He holds one hand up with index and thumb close together.

“Still, I would like to know how, out of seven ships, none of us wound up on one.” Tony shrugs one shoulder. 

“The computer program that did all the organizing did not find any of you suitable for various reasons. You may inquire after the details with Mr. Maverick if you care to set appointments. Other than that, there’s really not much I can tell you about your situations.” Steve is getting mad now, but Tony’s much more hands-off than he used to be; there isn’t much you can find him doing that involves the Rogue Avengers.

“We did. For the most part, the excuses are ‘incompatible with pilot’, ‘instability’, and ‘lack of trust’. That’s clearly you.” Tony shrugs.

“I wrote a program that would take into account all facts on advanced individuals which, by the way, includes IQ, and organize them into teams. I really can’t change the results of the program. Not unless I change the parameters or the constants. Besides, you’re not really a priority.” If they had been on a bus, all the other kids would be screaming out ‘OOOOOH BOY!’. But they aren’t, so the silence speaks volumes for everyone instead. Because they’re adults.

“Tony, we all know that any program you write will favor you-” Steve starts, and god, he’s so condescending. So ready to blame his own shortcomings on Tony that he literally left he cause of his problems laying in a dead suit in Siberia and still things did not turn out his way. Both the Hanks (Pym and Mccoy) scowl. 

“Um, programming really doesn’t work like that-”

“Look, sir,” Steve says to the blue one, “this is a private issue.”

“Then you probably should have broached it in a private spot,” the old Hank says.

“Really, you know how painfully obvious this is? This guy,” Tony says with a open handed gesture at Pym, “has thought that I was as much of an evil thief as my father since I started doing business, and he just checked you. Literally. He hates me. It’s not a love-hate. It’s a hate-hate. A totally justified one, too. I’m gonna die, this is so full circle.” Abruptly, Tony sobers. Pym gives him an unamused look.

“In all seriousness, though, Doctor Mccoy is correct; the program does not work like that. It is meant to organize in a way that gives us all the best chance of survival. Your actions during the Civil War have thrown light on some serious character flaws, and there’s nothing I can or will do about it.”

“You’re a tech guru,” Clint calls out, “it isn’t like you couldn’t have written something in there.” Natasha is nodding. Tony drops his head back briefly, exposing the elongated line of his neck. The hallway has got a little fuller, now, with Stephen Strange taking up a post near Tony and Hope van Dyne peering curiously out of a doorway.

“So what? You know what, that’s a very good observation. Astute. Insert other synonym here,” Tony says, stepping further away from his group. “But utterly useless, really. Bug or no bug, I cannot with any confidence, say that I could go into space with you and make it back, barring what you couldn’t stop. I couldn’t send you into space with Dr. Pym, and say that you would have his back. I could not send you anywhere near the Mad Titan because I and everyone else who’s suffered from your absence do not trust you to take care of people outside your circle. So you have been relegated to evac teams. That’s all there is,” he says.

At only an arms length away, Tony could reach out and touch Steve, but he won’t do it. They don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.

“Then run it again. There has got to be someone,” Steve says, and he seems to think he’s still The Captain, and not merely some fuck Tony had the unfortunance of seeing today.

“No.” Steve reaches out and grabs Tony’s arm the moment he turns away. In another moment, Strange might have stepped in. Mccoy might have stepped in. Anyone might have stepped in. But the gold in Tony’s eyes flash with anger and magic and he whirls around so fast that, for a moment, some of the bystanders are scared.

“You can’t just decide that, Tony! It should be put to a vote.”

“I don’t care about you! I don’t care what you want! I don’t care what you think you deserve! I don’t even care what you’ve earned! I don’t watch over your lives or manage you. If the program put you on evac, earth side, as a last resort, you will do your job and do it well. If, for the rest of your over dramatized life, you find yourself doing evac duty for other people, you will do that or you will retire. There is no other option. You turned them away,” he says, chest moving in a way that would worry him, if he had not been to see Idunn.

“If you are so angry with the miserableness your actions have brought you then you are free to leave. But under no circumstances are you to interfere with anyone going into space to attempt to get them to vouch for you. Not this time, not next time, and not ever. That is all I will say about it,” Tony says as he yanks his arm out Steve’s grip, turns on one heel, and stalks back across the space between the Rogue Avengers and the pilots and major players.

“Tony! This isn’t over! Just because your ego-” Natasha starts. Tony stops and turns back with with a stone cold face.

“It was never about my ego.” Then he’s gone, the rest of the New Avengers and their guests closing ranks around them. Loki spares them a thin lipped smirk before he follows, too.

It’s about damn time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I, like the terrible teenager that I am, missed an update, even though this work is actually fully written. So I will update today, and I will update Friday, and then I'll go back to our regularly scheduled days, k?


	14. Thanos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project: THANOS is completed. Tony makes his final speech.

The dawn is a different thing entirely, when viewed from space. As the earth spins North America closer to the light, seven groups of people stand before seven ships, made from a mixture vibranium and nitinol.

Those people’s backs are to the great beasts, whose crafting was done by Magneto, the programming by Tony Stark, and the interface by the joint efforts of Professor Charles Xavier and Loki Laufeyson (Master Laufeyson, if you speak to Stephen Strange on the subject. Personally, Tony likes that one. Besides, the amount of magical know-how Loki possesses makes Tony uncomfortable with the fact that he can’t be called a doctor). 

The people line up in neat rows in full battle gear, face a small group of people. 

“Good luck,” says a man in a flying suit of armor, “and thank you all for your service.” That is all he says, because everything else was spoken earlier. As he boards one of the last ships on the far left, his speech is still in their minds. 

_ Every hero and villain that could be called and assembled in the time they had stood on the lawn of the Avengers Compound. Giant holographic screens projected close to thirty six different established Avengers Bases around the world. “My name, as you all know, is Anthony Edward Stark. Just Tony, really.” _

One by one, the ships come alive as their pilots- all geniuses in their own rights- slide into the cockpits and seamlessly in sync with the interfaces. The people board, solemn and afraid, but determined to fight.

_ “When I was seventeen, I was told that my parents were dead,” Stark said to them. He had not tried to belay or minimize the reality of the situation in any way. He was dressed in an all black suit, and he had not put on any makeup. The dark circles under his eyes stood out like the flags of a pirate ship. _

The pilots run through their checks. The AI JOCASTA will keep them all connected in space, and she confirms that each ship is operating at its full capabilities. The pilots, connected via the AI and through a mental network mirrored and facilitated by her, run their minds along lines of code.

_ “I grieved for my mother. She had, for years before her death, been severely depressed. She would take a little nap at nine in the morning and not wake up until ten the next day. I was disappointed a lot, until I knew what was wrong with her. After that, I cherished what I did have.  _

_ “I loved her when she was awake, even as I struggled to keep a hold on school and people. It just wasn’t worth it to me, when my mom was that sick.” There was a moment there, where Stark’s eyes went distant, as though he were remembering when he was seventeen, acting like an asshole to his father. Those days before she died were difficult for him. _

The groups of people walk up onto the ships in double file, each one in possession of a small duffel bag, and dressed in a space suit. They silently strap themselves into their seats. Most of them don’t make eye contact. A fair few have earbuds in. Various singers croon or shout or rap out favored and often heard lyrics. Others find the eyes of their comrades. They clasp hands and bodies with the ones whose beds they passed the night in, either as a lover or as a friend. Either way, the passengers fall into a state of deep contemplation as the works of art that is the Spacial Fleet begins to rise just as the false dawn ends.

_ “With my father, though, I was furious. I had, for the longest time, had this hope that maybe one day my father would drink himself to death, and my mother would come back. I used to spend the quiet moments of my really bad days thinking of all the ways he could die. A lot of them involved alcohol.  _

_ “So when I heard their car had wrapped around a tree, I assumed he was drunk off his ass. It wouldn't be the first time. It wouldn’t even be the first wreck. I cursed him so much and so badly that I didn’t even notice when I started to drink like him. More importantly, though, I didn’t care.” _

_ Stark took another moment, eyes on the middle distance as he remembered snippets of a decades worth of partying. Of girls and boys and men and women. Of fucking and being fucked. Of being out of his mind on weed and alcohol and hate and love and other drugs. Of never caring what he invented as long as he got to blow some shit up. _

Alerts to the pilots inform them when each ship passes out of orbit. After each ship reaches optimal height, the flight becomes easier; more streamlined as they aim to get away entirely from earth. The passengers have mostly closed their eyes, by now. There is nothing left for them to do.

_ “And I paid for it. I was kidnapped by a terrorist cell and tortured into making weapons, Instead, with my heart weakened and my sternum nonexistent, I made a suit of armor. It protected me, and cost me the doctor that saved my life. Ever since then, I’ve been living like Dr. Ho Yinsen was up there in the heavens, looking down at me.  _

_ “I’ve been living like every fuck up, ever ill timed statement, every cache of Stark Weaponry that was sold behind my back was just cosmic karma, and until I could stop being so wrong, I would never get it right. I would always lose what was good. I had made a suit of armor, but I couldn’t protect myself from that.” _

After a while, food and water are passed around, and one by one, each passenger uses the bathroom. This happens three time before Saturn's rings are within view. The pilots note their position and pause just beyond the orbit. Anything knocked behind them would plummet to the surface of a hostile planet.

_ “And you know what? That’s my problem. I tried to build a suit of armor, but no armor protects everything. When I had a nightmarish vision where every ended up dead, I attempted to jumpstart a global protection program. All I did was create armor that damages the user. That has been my problem since I first learned what my weapons could do. You know what? I’ve come to terms with that,” Tony says, and it’s such a simple admission said nearly too blase for comfort that it immediately made those who knew Tony nervous. “There is nothing I can do as far as invincibility, but I can do this.” _

Out of the dead dark, the anomalous readings each pilot has been picking up manifest into huge armored eels that spit forth hundreds of chitauri, along with other aliens no one’s ever seen before. The mouths of the ships yawn, releasing the passengers.

_ “The individuals behind me as well as myself have agreed to be the pilot of interactive ships; ones that will be able to adjust. A lost thruster can be rebuilt. A damaged hull will stitch itself together. In addition to that, the Iron Legion will be there to assist in fighting and lower the casualties. If they can be lowered. If that fails, the Earth Team: Air will take the fight to the skies, thought they will not be able to go beyond the atmosphere. At that point, Earth Team: Ground will already have evac up and going strong. If that fails as well, there are others, waiting to be called to action. They will be assisting in the evacuation.” _

_ Behind Tony stood six individuals: Dr. Hank Pym. Dr. Bruce Banner. Dr. Hank Mccoy. Dr. Amadeus Cho. King T’Challa Udaku. Dr. Reed Richards. Their faces were grave and impassive; years of training in their respective fields, of presenting information and working out radically impossible problems gave them what they needed to keep a straight, calm face. _

As the passengers fly in their space suits and cut swathes from among the horde of chitauri foot soliders, the Iron Legion works to keep anyone from being overcome. With the aliens relegated to their bikes, it makes things slightly easier. The people begin to fall, but with the Iron Legion there to assist, and the ships themselves laying down heavy fire to distract and to defend, it is not as bad as it could be.

_ “We hope this will be enough. We are aware that it might not be. We are aware that, for some of you, if not all, it will not be. In these final hours before our plan goes into effect, I will grieve, because I may not be able to when we get to the other side. I will grieve for the possibility that we will fail, our contingencies will fail, and our contingencies’ contingencies fail. I will grieve for the future where a three year old in Texas got killed by the Mad Titan. I will grieve for the future when only those who went out to meet Thanos met their end among the stars,” Tony stated. His voice caught on his next words. _

_ “I will grieve, because I cannot see a future where I made an armor that was enough. I will also be grateful. Grateful for the pilots behind me. Grateful for those who go and for those who stay. Grateful for those I hate and those I love. I will be grateful that I got any time at all, and I will strive to see you all again.” _

As the fighting continues, Tony could feel parts of his ship come undone- ripped away by circulating enemies. As he pushes out and guides Iron Legion armors and struggles to fight with the snake-ships, Vision is fighting in the air, and Tony can see the exact moment when the mad Titan picks up on the gem. As he goes to retrieve it, three out of six stones in the gauntlet, Jean Grey, already in position somewhere in Tony’s ship, begins to focus.

_ “I started out making armor to protect myself, but now, I make this armor to protect you. I want to believe that it will be enough, but nothing ever is. So I will thank you, love you, and grieve and be grateful for you, because later, I might not get to.” _

The glove is slippery; she can sense power in each stone as she tries to grasp onto the gauntlet itself. The space gem has her half convinced she is teleporting. The reality gem makes her feel as though nothing is real. The Power gem makes her feel as if they are up against an unstoppable force. 

Finally, though, she manages to work through the eddies and undertows of their specific forces to grasp the gauntlet with her mind. With the ship aiding her, and the brilliant, burning blue light of Tony Stark’s mind to add power to hers, she pulls just as Thanos’ staff touches down on Vision’s forehead and the android lets out an unearthly, inhuman scream.

_ “We do this for people. We signed the Accords to help people. We train to help people. We live so that they can. No matter how angry we are with them, it is time to put aside our disagreements and band together, to face down the threat of the Mad Titan once and for all.” _

Vision’s scream abruptly cuts off as the Infinity Gauntlet slides off the aliens hand and all ships immediately fire at Tony’s. He reacts on instinct, curling the metal over and again so that he can protect himself as fires and fury race through his corridors before he can close anything off. He tries, he really does, but it doesn’t save the telepath in his hangar, and he feels her life force fading as surely as he feels his rage expanding outward, pushing back against the falling of his people. 

The fight has turned in Thanos’ favor as he tries to reach the dying gauntlet. The snake-ships have figured out the best method of attack, and have murdered another ship in its entirety.  With the last of her strength, Jean Grey pushes back against Thanos, shoving him with a huge mental blast that sent him directly into the gravitational pull of Saturn.

With much of his ship compromised, and Jean finally dead inside it, Tony thinks nothing of dropping like a stone after him, his ship reforming into the largest throwing knife in history as it stabs right through the head of the falling Mad Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, there's that, folks. Was it realistic? In related news, it's just the epilogue now.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of years down the road...

Asgard is more beautiful than Thor said it would be; less gold, more green with growing things. With the Aesir back where they belong, and trade going stronger than it did in the entirety of his father’s rule, Thor has confidence that they can make Asgard their home again. He pauses at the gauzy curtains and feels the warm air off the balcony. He does not wish to interrupt the scene.

Bruce and Tony sit on a bench, the former wrapping an arm around the latter. Tony’s gaze, so often unfocused except on the machines, does not sway even the smallest bit. Bruce tugs him close and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. Tony doesn’t do much more than let him.

They have full hope that he will eventually stop reliving the day he felt the death of Thanos, but today is not that day. They have sent him to Asgard to heal and to see what can be done about the random and long stretches of blankness as he stares off into space. 

Loki joins him at the curtains, and Thor sets a hand on his back.

“It’s shaping up to be a bad day, my love.” Loki nods and rests his head against Thor’s shoulder. It is not as bad a day as it would have been a year ago. He might yet sleep peacefully tonight, where as he wouldn’t before. The bad spells are getting shorter.

“I shall endeavor to watch him, then. It seems like he might have a fit.” A violent one where he tries to scratch out his eyeballs and screams about meeting Lady Death.

“Aye.” With a last kiss, Loki strides out on the balcony to join them, and he too tries to engage Tony. 

After a moment, Thor leaves. As much as he would love to take all three of them back to bed, he has duties; he cannot attend to Anthony if he does none of his work, after all. Anthony is getting better, slowly but surely, and he need not worry with Loki and Bruce both at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peaks out from behind the curtains* Didja like it?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed work! Please let me know what you think. all comments and concrit are appreciated.


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